


Blue is the New Red

by CanaryCry



Series: Dick Grayson: Murder Victim [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe, DCU, DCU (Animated), Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Biphobia, Birthday, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Drugged Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear gas, Flashbacks, Forced Prostitution, Hallucinations, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Original Character Death(s), Pansexual Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Secrets, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Torture, Underage Prostitution, Victim Blaming, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:03:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 45
Words: 226,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanaryCry/pseuds/CanaryCry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Was that the first… you know…”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“My first kill? Yeah.” He was shaking again, damn it. Wally gripped his hand tighter.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“This… all of this… explains a lot.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“I guess.” Dick had put a lot of effort into not thinking about it, but maybe it had affected him more than he liked to admit. But there was something else, something he hadn’t told Bruce. “But, Wally, there’s more. I’ve told you everything Bruce knows, but I didn’t tell him everything.”</i>
</p>
<p>Nightwing has finally made his return to the Team, but he finds the events of the past two years aren't quite done with him yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a few months since the conclusion of Nightwing: Under the Red Hood. I haven't made a lot of progress with this story, so this chapter is more of an advance gift in celebration of the 3-year anniversary of the show's debut, rather than the start of my usual update schedule. I'm still nailing down the plot; I do have ideas but I've been doing a bit of back-and-forth with some of them because I don't want to overdo the Dick-torture. There's a line between storytelling and downright torture porn and I'd prefer not to cross it. Anyway, yeah, enjoy. I'll post the ensuing chapters when they're ready, so I make no promises of speedy updates yet.
> 
> Regarding a little mention of Dick's age when he joined the team: remember that I moved the events of season 1 back a year to accommodate my timeline :)

Blüdhaven had a particular scent, especially near the docks, a stench of rotten fish that seemed to permeate clothing and hair and follow you home. Nightwing was perched on a warehouse near the docks, nostrils burning as he shifted his weight to find a comfortable position that accommodated the bow and quiver on his back. He was under orders to remain unseen unless absolutely necessary, so having weaponry that could be used reliably from a distance was more important than his comfort.

The team had split up to search the warehouses along the docks, which made Nightwing’s assignment a little more difficult, given the team was as of yet unaware of him. He spotted Kid Flash’s vibrant red hair for a moment before he disappeared indoors with Artemis and Rocket. Robin was with Zatanna and Superboy. Nightwing was glad the two weren’t together, since they were the only ones aware of his assignment. The more spread out they were, the more likely he was to be alerted if his assistance was needed. He left them to it and shadowed Aqualad and Miss Martian. The team’s use of Miss Martian’s psychic abilities rather than a traditional com link also added complications to this assignment, but at least he had been prepared for that one. Robin and Kid Flash would use the comm link to summon him if needed.

The team had been investigating a people-smuggling ring Batman had brought to their attention. According to Kid Flash, it had seemed like a fairly simple mission. The smugglers were plucking people off the streets, mostly working-class or homeless children who wouldn’t be missed, but many of the kidnappings had been caught on security camera footage. Batman and the team had believed the smugglers weren’t particularly capable. They had been wrong.

The team had discovered while investigating an old house suspected of housing some of the stolen children that they had inadvertently tipped the smugglers off and further endangered their victims. The smugglers had moved the children and it had taken every ounce of Batman and Robin’s combined detective skills to find them again. The team was now racing against time to find the kids before they were executed.

Unfortunately, Batman suspected the smugglers had information on their pursuers and knew exactly who was coming for them. That’s where Nightwing came in; he was the wildcard, barely more than a rumour even within Gotham. That would change tonight if things got dicey and Nightwing had to step in. Batman had ordered him to maintain cover unless absolutely necessary, but, honestly, Nightwing was hoping the opportunity to reveal himself would arise. It didn’t get much more dramatic than a formerly-dead teammate appearing in the heat of battle to save the day.

“We’re not going to find anything here,” came Robin’s voice through the comm. Both he and Kid Flash had set their communicators to automatically transmit to Nightwing’s.

“We’ve got ten of these to search,” Superboy replied. “Quit complaining.”

“If there were people in this one, you would’ve heard them already,” Robin said irritably. The two continued bickering while Nightwing found a good vantage point to watch Aqualad and Miss Martian. He couldn’t actually see them without going inside, but he was close enough that he’d notice if a fight started. Such an event was unlikely. Dockside warehouses tended to be more conspicuous than their inner-city counterparts where kidnappers could hide their victims far more easily. Victims were usually taken to the docks to be killed and dumped. The bodies would wash up days or even weeks later, usually far from the site of their murders.

Nightwing shook off that morbid line of thinking when Aqualad and Miss Martian emerged, having clearly found nothing of interest. Nightwing watched the team search the rest of the warehouses, predictably coming up empty, before they reconvened by the water in a very exposed spot that made Nightwing want to smack the lot of them. Blüdhaven wasn’t that far from Gotham—a half-hour drive in good traffic—and there was always the possibility that these smugglers had hired Gotham muscle. Gotham crooks had a very particular mean streak.

Getting as close as he could without alerting Superboy, Nightwing listened through the comm as the team debated their next move. Aqualad was in favour of splitting into small teams to cover the remaining dock areas while Robin was arguing, clearly having listened to Batman’s lessons every once in a while, that the team should head for the furthest area of the docks where the smugglers were probably lining up their victims. The idea had some merit, though Nightwing himself would have suggested sending Miss Martian to check before sending the whole team anywhere, but Robin’s trouble integrating with the team was causing some problems. Superboy, who under normal circumstances would probably have liked the idea, immediately sided with Aqualad, who noticed the tension between the two operatives.

“Perhaps it would be wise to send Miss Martian ahead while the rest of us search the more immediate area,” he said. Nightwing nearly punched the air.

Before a decision could be made, however, Nightwing noticed bubbles in the water. He was about to shout a warning when an enormous scaly creature surged onto the dock, ripping the bow from Artemis’ hand and nearly taking her arm with it. The team scattered, Artemis getting the quiver torn from her back in the process.

“Ah, shit,” breathed Kid Flash.

Killer Croc took a swipe at Miss Martian, who soared out of the way. Nightwing took an explosive arrow out of his quiver and set the notch on the bowstring, ready to intervene. Kid Flash was zipping in and out of Croc’s reach, running interference while the rest of the team pulled themselves together. Aqualad funnelled water from the bay to slap Croc in the face, but he barely flinched. Robin’s small explosives were even less effective and Zatanna didn’t have time to get out a spell before she was thrown against the nearest wall and knocked out cold.

“Fuck it,” Nightwing muttered, bringing up his bow. Kid Flash was in his infiltration colours, so Nightwing had to rely on his hair to see him as he sped around Croc, trying to distract him while Superboy tried to get a few hits in. Croc opened his mouth to snap at Kid Flash as he zipped past and Dick loosed the arrow, which landed under Croc’s tongue and exploded, throwing him back into the water.

Nightwing leapt from the warehouse rooftop onto the ground, preparing another arrow. The bubbles in the water disappeared. Croc had swum away to nurse his sounds.

Zatanna let out a groan nearby. Nightwing knelt by her side.

Zatanna blinked dazedly. “Robin?”

“You’re two years late,” Nightwing said wryly. “It’s Nightwing now. How’s your head?”

“I think I’m hallucinating,” she replied, pressing a hand to her eyes.

“Hey, Kid Flash,” Nightwing said. “Am I real?”

“That explosion you set off felt pretty damn real,” Kid Flash replied, wrinkling his nose. “I think I smell cooked crocodile. Is he dead?”

“I doubt it. Batman made him eat a grenade once.”

“Okay, I get it,” Zatanna interrupted, letting Nightwing help her to her feet. “You’re real.”

“What the hell just happened?” Superboy interjected.

“Robin came back to life and now he’s Nightwing,” Kid Flash said. “And uses a bow, apparently.”

Nightwing held the bow out to Artemis. “Artemis is still a better archer. I needed something that had range potential and Batman wasn’t about to let me use a gun, even with rubber bullets.”

Artemis took the bow, pulling back the string. “Not bad, Zombie Wonder. Does Batman take special orders?”

“You can have that one. You’ll get more use out of it.” Nightwing unlatched the quiver from his back and tossed it to her. “I tried to keep the arrow positioning similar to yours but you might want to do an inventory check.”

“What are you doing here?” Superboy demanded, stepping in front of Miss Martian as if she couldn’t defend herself.

“Batman’s orders,” Nightwing replied. “He wanted me to tail you guys and only reveal myself if you needed help. Kid Flash and Robin can vouch for me if you’re worried.”

“It’s really him,” Kid Flash added. “Batman probably ran about twenty tests when we got him home. He’s not a clone or an alien or… I don’t know… a smoke monster.”

“Look, we don’t have time for this,” said Nightwing. “We have to save the hostages. Killer Croc will probably show up again so we need to get away from the water.”

“But—”

“We can argue about whether I’m the real deal or not later,” Nightwing snapped. “Hell, I’ll let Miss M read my mind later if that’s what it’ll take. But for now, you’re going to have to trust me.”

“Nightwing is correct,” Aqualad said at last. “Miss Martian, we’ll make our way toward the docks while you fly ahead. Connect Nightwing to the psychic link before you go.”

 **“Link established.”** Miss Martian soared away. She’d finally started wearing pants instead of a skirt while flying, but her hair was long as ever.

“Are we still splitting up?” Rocket asked Aqualad.

“If Miss Martian does not locate the hostages,” Aqualad replied. “We can make the decision after she reports back.”

“Picking groups now will save time,” Nightwing suggested.

Superboy scowled. “Not even back five minutes and you’re already giving orders.”

“He just saved our asses,” Kid Flash snapped. “I think he’s got the right to make a few suggestions.”

“Enough,” Aqualad said firmly. “Nightwing, can you work with Robin?”

“Sure thing.” Nightwing didn’t miss the implications of the question. “Are we going to work in groups of three? With me here, we’ve got nine people.”

“Take Kid Flash,” Aqualad said. “Superboy, Rocket and Zatanna will make the next group. I will join Artemis and Miss Martian. Any objections?”

“We’re good,” Artemis replied. “So, Nightwing, you’re not dead anymore.”

“Thank you for noticing,” Nightwing said lightly. Kid Flash snickered beside him.

“How did that even happen?”

“We can talk about it later when we don’t have hostages to save,” Nightwing replied, effectively ending the discussion.

 **“I found the hostages,”** Miss Martian said through the psychic link. **“They’re exactly where Robin said they would be.”**

**“Told you so.”**

“Shut up,” Superboy groaned aloud.

 **“Focus on the mission,”** Aqualad chastised, leading the team forward. **“How many children?”**

 **“Ten,”** Miss Martian replied. **“There are fifteen bad guys. They made the kids kneel in a line near the water.”**

 **“Son of a bitch,”** Nightwing interjected, picking up the pace. **“They’re going to start shooting them any moment.”**

 **“Kid Flash, Superboy, Rocket, go on ahead,”** Aqualad ordered, working up to a run. **“Miss Martian, join them as soon as they start their attack. The rest of us will arrive as soon as we can.”**

“We’re taking a huge risk,” Nightwing said, matching the team leader’s pace. “I’ve read your reports. These guys are smarter than the average thug and they have Killer Croc on side. This could get messy.”

“Agreed,” said Aqualad. **“Stay as far from the water as possible. Zatanna, Artemis, Miss Martian, Rocket, hang back if possible and fight from a distance.”**

 **“We’ve arrived at the dock,”** said Rocket. **“Whoa!”**

 **“Hang in there,”** replied Nightwing. **“We’re coming.”**

 **“Rocket, try to protect the children,”** Aqualad ordered.

**“On it. Superboy’s already taken three guys out.”**

**“Save some of the bad guys for us,”** Nightwing teased.

 **“You already got Killer Croc,”** Kid Flash replied. **“Let the little guys get some glory.”**

**“Just concentrate on where you’re running before you get another nosebleed.”**

Nightwing and the others finally arrived at the dock to find the battle in full-swing. Rocket was in the process of moving the hostages onto solid ground, encased in a forcefield. The others were running interference to stop the smugglers from attacking her while she was vulnerable.

A carefully-placed arrow from Artemis had another three smugglers trapped in polyurethane foam, leaving only nine more to take out. A gunshot narrowly missed Robin, who sidestepped just in time. Nightwing drew his escrima and knocked the pistol out of the man’s hand before taking him down with a kick to the back of the knees and a strike at the base of his skull.

“Thanks.”

“Got your back, Little Wing.”

Robin jabbed the nearest smugger in the gut. “Stop it.” He followed up with a knockout punch. In the time it had taken them to fell two of the smugglers, the rest of the team had dealt with the rest. Kid Flash made quick work of tying them up before skidding to a stop at Nightwing’s side.

“Heh. Barely broke a sweat.”

“We should get the kids out of here before Killer Croc shows up again,” said Nightwing. “Batman told me you guys have made an arrangement to meet up with the FBI at a designated location.”

“We do,” Aqualad replied. He approached the children, presumably to make sure they were calm and able to cooperate. While he did that, Nightwing watched the water for any signs of Killer Croc.

“Dude, you shot a bomb into his mouth,” said Kid Flash. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Nightwing heard the bubbles before he saw them. “You are no longer allowed to talk. **Guys, we might have another round with Killer Croc in a sec.”**

 **“Rocket, Miss Martian, get the children out of here now,”** Aqualad ordered. “We’ll meet you at the rendezvous point,” he said aloud, unsheathing his water swords. They had barely disappeared from sight when a deluge of polluted seawater pummelled the rest of the team. Nightwing and Kid Flash barely managed to stay upright while Robin hit the deck beside them. They dragged the younger boy back when a pair of clawed hands swiped in his direction.

“Hey, Croc,” Nightwing said lightly. “Did you miss me?”

Killer Croc finished his climb out onto the dock, brown water dripping from his scales. “Should’ve stayed dead, Robin.”

“Yeah, enough with the Robin stuff okay? It’s Nightwing. Why don’t you go back to Gotham and tell everyone I’m back? Don’t need to worry about Joker. I made sure he knows.”

Croc snarled at him. “No. I’m gonna rip you in half.”

“Well, that’s not very nice, Crocky.” Nightwing threw Kid Flash a sideways glance. **“He’s probably gonna lunge at me in a moment. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop him while I still have internal organs.”**

Croc snapped in his direction, but Superboy leapt over Nightwing to land a fist on his snout, sending Croc reeling backwards. Nightwing and Robin fell back.

 **“We can’t contain him,”** Nightwing said. **“I’ll tell Batman he’s around when we’ve driven him off.”**

 **“Very well,”** Aqualad replied, siphoning water from the bay. **“Superboy, Kid Flash, put him off balance. Zatanna, do something about his bite.”**

 **“On it,”** all three replied. Superboy lunged at Croc again while Kid Flash caught his attention.

“Elzzum Kellik Corc,” said Zatanna, her arms outstretched. The spell hit its mark, binding Croc’s jaw shut with a leather muzzle that wouldn’t have been out of place on a dog.

 **“Firing,”** Artemis wanted before loosing an explosive arrow that, coupled with the force of Superboy’s next punch, threw Killer Croc back into the water.

 **“Let’s get out of here before he shows his face again,”** Nightwing suggested, before pressing the communicator in his ear. “You there, Batman?”

“Yes.”

“Killer Croc is here. We’ve driven him off but we don’t have the resources to apprehend him.”

“I’ll alert the authorities,” Batman replied, severing the link without another word.

The team began heading to the rendezvous point.

* * *

Batman was waiting for them in the mission room upon their return to Mount Justice.  Nightwing hung back, taking in the familiar pale walls, the hint of leather in the air. He felt small, like the twelve-year-old who had first entered this place three years ago. His shoulders briefly seemed to hold the weight of the cape he had long since abandoned. It wasn’t nostalgia, not exactly; the memories burned and nauseated him. The sickness had little to do with the memories themselves and everything to do with losing that feeling of comfort and belonging so long ago.

Kid Flash nudged him gently but remained silent. Aqualad was already recounting the events of the evening with occasional contributions from the others.

When they were finished, Wally, who by this time had removed his cowl, chimed in. “So, yeah. Good call having Nightwing stalk us. I think Artemis has claimed the bow, though, so I hope you didn’t want it back.”

“It’s a nice bow, okay?”

“Keep it,” said Batman.

Artemis blinked. “Oh! Uh. Wow. Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” Batman replied in that weird deadpan tone he used when he wasn’t sure how to handle a situation. “I’ll head to Blüdhaven to assist with Killer Croc’s capture.” He beckoned for Nightwing and Robin to follow him as he made for the zeta tube.

“I’m going to stick around for a while,” Nightwing told him. “I earned a few brownie points, but they still don’t really trust me.”

“Keep in mind what we discussed.”

“Relax,” Nightwing said slowly. “I’m revealing our identities, not divulging all our secrets.”

“Unless you allow Miss Martian—”

“I’m not going to show her everything if it even comes to that,” Nightwing cut him off. “We’ve already talked about this. You’re going to have to start trusting me.”

Those were the magic words.  “Fine. Alfred will be expecting both of you for breakfast.” He headed for the zeta tube without another word.

“Tell me your secret,” Robin whispered as they headed for the living room, where most of the team had vanished to.

“Wait until he screws up massively and then milk it for all it’s worth,” Nightwing replied.

“Are you teaching Robin how to guilt-trip Batman?” Wally asked from the doorway.

“It’s an important talent,” Nightwing replied lightly. “I’d almost call it a survival skill.”

“I’m not sure I should be taking survival tips from you of all people,” Robin chimed in. Nightwing put him in a headlock, but let him go when he started to squirm. He’d be a pain-in-the-ass older brother later when there wasn’t a room full of people waiting for an explanation.

The three boys finally entered area, where the team was already assembled. M’gann was making sandwiches in the adjacent kitchen with Artemis not-so-subtly supervising her.

“Hey,” Nightwing said awkwardly to the room at large.

“Hey,” Artemis said back. “Are you going to tell us how you kicked death in the balls yet?”

“Would death even _have_ balls?”

“Does it matter?” Conner interrupted, holding the remote aloft as Raquel tried to make a grab for it and ended up falling into his lap. Artemis laughed loudly at them while M’gann let out a soft giggle.

“I guess not.” Nightwing perched on the edge of the nearest chair with Wally settling himself on the arm; Robin just flat-out threw himself on the floor. Wally grabbed three sandwiches the instant M’gann put the plate on the coffee table, handing one to Nightwing.

“You have our attention, Nightwing,” Kaldur said.

“I guess I should start by, I don’t know, sharing a few old secrets as a show of good faith.” Nightwing took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly while he psyched himself up for what came next. “You guys remember the Haly’s Circus mission? Well, Raquel and Robin won’t because they weren’t around back then.” He took another bite.

“I wish I could’ve gone,” Zatanna remarked.

“Get to the point, Nightwing,” Conner demanded.

“In a minute. This is a mighty fine sandwich, M’gann.” It seemed her cooking had improved… at least when it came to sandwiches.

The Martian blushed a little. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Nightwing threw her a cheesy grin that made Wally elbow him. “Anyway, those of you who were on the mission with me might’ve guessed I had a… personal investment in the case.” He finished the sandwich. “I grew up there. I come from a family of circus acrobats, the Flying Graysons.” He slid his fingers beneath his mask and pried it off.

M’gann actually squealed. “You’re Richard Grayson! Oh my _God_ … does that mean Bruce Wayne is Batman?”

“And Robin is my little brother, Jason Todd.”

Jason pulled off his mask as well. “Hi.”

“Called it,” said Artemis. Wally made a rude noise at her.

M’gann squealed again, bouncing in her seat. “This is so… wow. I’ve always wanted to meet you!”

Now it was Dick’s turn to blush, while Wally, Jason and Artemis all hastened to disabuse her of that notion.

“You really don’t,” said Artemis.

“No, really,” Jason added. “He’s not even that cool.”

“He’s a bit of a dick, to be honest,” Wally said. Dick smacked him.

“My friends call me Dick,” he explained.

“Worst nickname ever,” said Wally.

“ _Anyway_ , I had to nag Bruce for a week before he agreed to let you guys in on our identities,” Dick continued. “I don’t think I need to tell you guys to keep this quiet. I get kidnapped enough as it is.”

Jason sniggered. “Dick Grayson: Boy Hostage.”

“Oh, please. You’ve had your fair share of kidnappings, too. It’s like a rite of passage.”

“As I don’t have to die, too.”

“Yeah, it’s not very pleasant.” Dick kept his tone deliberately light. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Speaking of dying,” Zatanna prodded, “how did you come back?”

“How much do you guys know about Ra’s al Ghul?”

“He’s one of Batman’s pet bad guys, isn’t he?” said Conner.

“Basically. Bruce and I were after him when we ran into the Joker in Sarajevo.” Dick wasn’t in the mood to give out the gory details. “Long story short, Ra’s had hired him as a distraction and felt bad when I ended up dead. He’s been using these things called Lazarus Pits to prolong his own life, so he tried throwing me into one to bring me back… and here I am.” _Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think—_

“Why’d he feel bad, though?” asked Zatanna. “I mean, doesn’t he kill people all the time?”

“Ra’s has a… warped sense of morality,” Dick replied. “It wasn’t part of his agreement with the Joker to kill me and, even if he’d wanted me dead, he would’ve skipped the whole torture part of the program. It also probably had something to do with the fact he deeply respects Bruce even though they’re usually enemies. I was also a kid and, well, you know what they say about one death being a tragedy and multiple deaths being a statistic.”

“Okay, fine,” said Conner. “We get it. Where the hell were you these last two years?”

“Did he wait to bring you back?” Artemis added.

“No more than a month or two,” Dick replied; he’d been dreading this line of questioning all night. “I can’t say for sure. I haven’t been able to nail down an exact timeline.”

“So, why didn’t you come back earlier?” Conner insisted. “What were you even doing?”

“I don’t want to talk about,” Dick replied. “The last two years were pretty rough. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

“How are we supposed to trust you if you won’t—”

“For _now_ ,” Dick repeated sharply. “That’s not a never. I’ll tell you when I have a handle on all of it myself. Bruce, Wally and Jason know about some of it. If you won’t trust me, you could try trusting them.”

“I’ll vouch for him,” Wally said immediately. “Let him deal with his shit first, okay? I’d like to see you go through what he’s been through and then be all chatty about it.”

“I think you made your point, Wally,” Dick murmured. Finding a balance between treating him like glass and treating him like a tank that could take on everything in his path had been a difficult task for everyone he knew. Bruce tended toward the tank; Wally favoured the glass.

“Dick’s all right,” Jason added. “We got in a few fistfights at first but we’re good now.”

“I wouldn’t call them fights,” Dick said with a grin. “That would imply you actually had a chance against me.”

“One day, Grayson. One day.”

“Isn’t he adorable?” Dick laughed when Jason made to punch him, deflecting his fist with his foot. “I’m still willing to let M’gann read my mind if I _have_ to, but I want to talk to her about some things first.”

“Another day, perhaps,” said Kaldur. “It is late and we should all rest. Welcome back to the Team, Richard. Now go home.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Dick kicked Jason. “Come on, Little—”

“Not in front of the team,” Jason complained.

“Whatever you say, Little Wing.”

“Aww, Little Wing,” said M’gann.

“No.”

“C’mon, Jay.” Dick slid onto the floor beside him and punched his shoulder.

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“It’s a badge of honour,” Wally chimed in. “You have no idea how many times Dick embarrassed me in front of the team in our first year.”

“Oh, please,” said Artemis. “You embarrassed yourself.”

“He punched me a lot, too.”

Jason snorted. “Did he pull your pigtails—hey!” Dick had elbowed him in the gut.

“Aren’t we supposed to be going home?” he said pointedly. He tolerated Jason’s teasing most of the time—encouraged it, really—but he drew the line at being outed in front of the team before he was ready.

“Sure, okay, whatever.”

“Are you going to sleep over again?” Dick asked Wally. “Or did you want to go home?”

“I guess I should go home,” Wally replied. “Let the folks know I’m still in one piece. That cool?”

“It’s cool. See you tomorrow.”

“Wait, Dick,” said Zatanna. The smile she was giving him instantly made him feel like the worst person in the world.

“What is it, Zee?”

“Could we talk? Somewhere private?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Dick got up, offering her his hand. “Got anywhere in mind?”

Zatanna pulled herself up. “Just follow me.”

“I’m going home,” Jason said as they left the room.

Zatanna led Dick to the garage, where they leaned against one of the motorbikes. “This should be far enough for nobody to overhear.”

Dick _so_ hadn’t wanted to do this tonight. “Okay, so, uh, what’d you want to talk about?”

Zatanna shrugged. “Just wanted to figure out where we stood. I mean, we were still together when you… you know.”

“Yeah, I… yeah.” He had to say something. It wasn’t fair to string her along. “Look, Zee…”

“Are we breaking up?” Zatanna had a wry smile on her face. Dick wasn’t sure what it meant.

“I… yeah.”

“I’m not mad, Dick,” Zatanna said reassuringly. “It’s been two years. That’s a long time. Sooooo, you got your eye on somebody else? Huh?” She nudged him, grinning at the colour in his cheeks. “It’s great seeing you unmasked. Embarrassing you is so much more fun.”

“You’re evil.”

“So, who do you like?” She poked his ribs. “You need some food. You’re gonna fade away.” She poked him again.

Dick squirmed. “Zee!”

She punctuated every word with another poke. “Who. Do. You. Like?”

Dick blew a raspberry at her. “It’s a secret.”

“And you’re ticklish.” She lunged for him but he dodged her. “Come on, tell me!”

“No no no no—AH!” Zatanna had managed to catch him, latching her arms around his middle. “I’ll never tell!”

“All you have to do is tell me and I’ll stop,” Zatanna said, attacking his ribs. “Tell me your secrets!”

Dick wriggled in her hold but couldn’t get away without risking an injury to one of them. He was breathless from laughter.

“Come on,” Zatanna goaded. “I promise I won’t tell.”

“Promise?” Dick panted.

Zatanna stopped her attack. “I promise.”

“Okay, fine.” He pulled free of her grasp, looking down at the ground and wishing the heat in his face would go away. “It’s Wally.”

Zatanna blinked. “Okay, I didn’t expect that. I thought you were gonna say Artemis. Or Raquel, maybe.”

Dick shrugged. “Gender doesn’t really come into the equation for me.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool. Does Wally know?”

“Yeah, and it’s mutual.” Dick couldn’t suppress a stupid grin. “We’re, um, a thing now.”

“Oh, look at you blush.” Zatanna gave him a fake punch in the gut. “You were going to keep this to yourself, sneaky.”

“Not forever,” Dick said, a little defensively. “Didn’t want to throw too much at the team at once.”

“I forgive you. Dick.” Zatanna snorted. “That is the best nickname ever.”

“Not you, too.”

“Too late!” Zatanna laughed her way out of the room, pausing at the doorway to look him up and down. “By the way, I like the new costume. Very sexy.” She was gone before Dick could reply.

Well, that went better than expected.


	2. Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick tries to settle back in to Mount Justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still struggling with this fic but hopefully the next update won't take quite as long as this one did. I was initially trying to get a backlog of chapters up before posting again, but I've decided to live dangerously for the moment because the next chapter is still giving me trouble and you guys have waited long enough for an update.

Dick and Jason headed back over to Mount Justice right after breakfast. The main chamber was empty, save for Kaldur, who had a damp towel slung over his shoulder as he regarded the holographic computer with a frown.

“Good morning,” Kaldur said before turning his attention back to the screen.

“’Morning,” Dick said brightly. “What have you got there?” He drew level with the team leader, who still towered over him.

“Batman is not convinced the children we rescued last night are the only surviving victims of the smuggling ring,” Kaldur replied, enlarging a photograph of a partially fire-damaged warehouse.

“Whoever set the fire didn’t know what they were doing,” Dick commented. “There’s probably still evidence hidden away there.”

“Batman believes the same,” said Kaldur. “He intends to investigate it personally.”

“I might give him a hand,” said Dick. “I’m not starting school again until next semester, so it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

“Lucky you,” Jason muttered.

“I can still tutor you if you want.”

“Piss off.”

“Aww, Jay, you’re breaking my heart.”

Jason fake-kicked his leg before walking off in the direction of the gym. Dick blew him a kiss, which earned him a middle finger aimed in his general direction.

“I see the two of you are getting along,” said Kaldur.

“I take my duty as an annoying older brother very seriously,” Dick replied. “Things were a bit tense between us at first—totally my fault—but we sorted it out. After we beat the crap out of each other, of course.”

“Of course,” Kaldur repeated dryly.

“Conner’s still suspicious, I take it?”

Kaldur nodded, his eyes refocused on the screen.

“I guess I can’t blame him, but I really don’t feel comfortable letting M’gann in my head,” Dick continued. “I’m going to have a long talk with her first, because it’s not going to be a pleasant experience for anyone. And, _ugh_ , I to do something about my room.”

“I cannot imagine your room is particularly cluttered, Richard,” said Kaldur.

“That’s not the issue. I’m just not really in the mood for a trip down memory lane. Maybe I’ll bully Wally into helping me.”

“I doubt bullying will be required.”

“ **Recognised: Kid Flash, B-03.** ”

“Mooornin’,” Wally said brightly. “Where is everyone?”

“Jason’s probably giving the punching bag something to cry about,” Dick replied.

“I believe the others are training with their mentors off-site,” Kaldur added.

“Does that mean Zatanna’s working with Dr Fate?” asked Dick. “Because that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Yeah, we weren’t too excited about it either,” Wally said. “But there aren’t many people she can train with. Zatanna told me he mostly just makes sure she doesn’t blow herself up while experimenting. Like that’s a bad thing.”

“Not all explosions give people superpowers, Wally,” Dick said lightly.

“Uh. Right. Sorry.”

“I might forget about it if you help me clean my quarters today.” Dick gave him an innocent smile, at which Wally pouted.

“Why are you so good at making people feel guilty?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Ugh, yes, it’s a yes.”

“Yes!”

“Stop it.”

Kaldur made a shooing motion at the two of them. “Please. I must concentrate.”

“Sorry, Kaldur,” Dick said sweetly, grabbing Wally’s hand and dragging him in the direction of the team’s quarters.

“Dude, now?”

“I want to get it over with. Batman said he’s dropped off some cardboard boxes.” They paused by a cleaning closet for supplies before continuing on. The boxes in question were stacked outside his door. Dick and Wally dropped the cleaning supplies into one of them, which Dick then shoved into Wally’s hands. A thin layer of dust collected on Dick’s fingertips as he keyed in the passcode. The door didn’t so much slide as shudder its way open. Dick wiped his fingers on his jeans, his insides clenching.

“You know,” Wally said slowly, “this can wait if you’re not ready.”

Dick threw him a withering look, grabbed another box and stepped inside, sneezing as he took in his first breath. He reached out to the keypad on the wall, without looking, and turned on the air vents. Unlike his room at the manor, which had at the very least been tidied, his quarters had remained undisturbed. It was a safe bet to assume nobody had been inside since he had suited up inside to join Batman in chasing Ra’s al Ghul two years ago, the morning after the team had returned from a rather exhausting mission involving a reappearance of the Injustice League minus the Joker. He’d, apparently, been meeting with Ra’s at the time. Dick found that out from the bastard directly while he was bleeding out on the floor of that damn shed.

“Dude. We can come back later.”

Dick shook his head as if his thoughts were water. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“You’re a masochist,” Wally muttered, setting the box of cleaning supplies on the corner of the desk, brushing aside the dismantled remnants of a penguin-shaped robot the Penguin had once used for reconnaissance. Robin had shorted it out with an experimental electrified batarang. Dick picked up a small chip that he had long ago determined to be the brain of the thing. He had been hoping to reverse-engineer the system to find a way to locate its controller. Probably pointless now. He’d drop the parts off at the Batcave anyway.

“You gonna throw that stuff out?”

“No, it’s Penguin tech,” Dick replied. “I’ll let Bruce decide what to do with it.”

“I’ll get a bag.” Wally zoomed out of the room and was back before Dick finished gathering the pieces together. Dick started stripping the bed while Wally piled the pieces into a plastic bag. Dick left the naked pillow on top of the mattress and sent Wally to run the covers to the laundry while he got started on dusting. He was leaving the closet—and the costumes within—until last.

Dick had finished dusting, moved the box of cleaning supplies onto the floor and wiped down the desk by the time Wally returned with new sheets.

“Did the washing machine try to eat you?” Dick teased. Wally ignored him.

“You’re on fire today,” he said brightly, laying a sheet on the mattress before tucking the edges underneath. “You wanna clean out the closet or mop the floor first?”

“I’ll get the mop,” Dick said, heading for the door. Wally was nearly finished making the bed when he returned with the mop and bucket; he still wasn’t that great at performing intricate tasks at high speed. Mopping didn’t take long. Wally was more of a hindrance than a help and Dick eventually made him sit on the bed and stay out of the way.

“You don’t even have chores at home,” Wally complained. “You have a _butler_.”

“I did have a life before Bruce, you know,” Dick replied, flicking him with water from the bucket. “When we were bad, the animal tamers used to make my cousin and me clean the elephant enclosure. Do you have any idea how much poop an elephant produces? I also just had to survive on my own for the better part of two years. Mopping is easy enough, unless your name’s Wally.”

“Hey! My mopping skills are legendary.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Why are you so mean?”

“Runs in the family,” Dick said off-handedly, shoving the mop back into the bucket and hopping onto the bed himself while the floor dried. “And I don’t mean biological family.”

Wally snorted, bowling the smaller boy over onto his back. “I know.”

Dick squirmed under Wally’s weight, letting out a sharp laugh when the speedster blew a raspberry into his neck. He was feeling better; Wally was like a sentient stress ball. Wally, taking his laughter as encouragement, jabbed a finger into his armpit, making Dick yelp and roll onto his side. Their hands locked together as they wrestled until Wally’s face came too close and Dick surged upward and kissed him.

Wally’s arm slid around his waist, catching him before he could fall backwards onto the pillow again. Dick grabbed a fistful of shirt on the speedster’s back, hoisting himself closer. Wally wriggled his tongue into the little gap between Dick’s lips, making both of them laugh into each other’s mouths.

“My, aren’t you keen?” Dick said between kisses. He settled himself back on the bed, dragging Wally down with him. Wally licked the tip of his nose. Dick flicked the other boy’s tooth when he opened his mouth to laugh at the disgusted look on his face.

“Ow!” Wally recoiled, covering his mouth. “Diiiick!”

“You started it.” Dick brought up his sock-clad foot and pressed it against Wally’s chest. “Now get off me.”

“Aww.” Wally sprawled across Dick, burying his face in the pillow right next to the other boy’s head.

“I don’t remember dating a starfish.”

“It’s one of my lesser-known superpowers.”

“Starfish eat by spitting out their stomachs and engulfing their food. Do you really… yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Hey!”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Dick nuzzled the side of Wally’s face. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Okay. You’re right. By day, I am a mere human speedster, but by night, I am… Starfish Man!”

Dick buried his face on Wally’s hair, unable to stifle his giggles. “Starfish Man. Really?”

“The Human Starfish? Kid Flash the Starfish Wonder? Kid Starfish? Kidfish? Starflash?”

Dick pressed Wally’s face into the pillow. “Enough.” Wally flailed until Dick let his head up. “When was the last time our conversations made sense?”

“Oh, you know, probably ever.” Wally rolled off Dick at last and onto his back. “Your ceiling is boring. We should get stickers.”

“Isn’t that against regulations?”

“What regulations?”

“Whatever. Posters we can do, but I’m not putting stickers up in a room that isn’t technically even mine because they’re clingy little shits who like to leave pieces of themselves behind.”

“You sound like Jason more and more each day.”

“It’s part of our grand plan to merge into a single being and become the ultimate superpowerless hero.” Dick sat up and ran his foot across the floor. “Floor’s dry enough. Time to deal with the closet, I guess.”

“Dude, if you’re not ready—”

“I’m not getting any readier, Wally.” Dick set the biggest box on the end of his bed. Wally reached out and squeezed his hand; neither of them knew what it was going to be like for Dick to open up the closet to find his old uniforms in there.

Dick closed his fingers around the handle and took a deep breath. He could do this. He pulled the door open and dust swirled into his nostrils. Eyes watering, he reached out and pulled the first costume off its hanger. He could probably still fit into it if he really tried, though it’d be too short in the leg and uncomfortably tight, especially in the shoulders.

He silently folded the costume and settled it in the box. Wally watched from the bed, seeming to sense this was something his boyfriend wanted to do by himself. Dick folded and boxed the other two spares and placed the one spare utility belt on top—some of the contents might be salvageable. He shut the box and set it alongside the others.

Wally looked into the closet. “What’s that?”

Dick pulled out a little metal box and placed it on the bed. “I kept my personal items in here. It was too risky to leave them out when my identity was still a secret.”

“What kind of personal items?”

Dick keyed in the combination—Bruce had reminded him, along with his room passcode, since old numbers didn’t always stay in his head these days—and showed Wally the Flying Graysons poster. He had kept one in every place he was likely to stay before he’d died.

There was also an old photo of him and the rest of the Graysons posing with a little dark-haired boy who couldn’t have been older than five at the time, and another of him with Bruce and Alfred at a fair in Metropolis shortly after he’d become Robin. Dick could remember that day clearly, even though other memories just as old often slipped through the cracks of his mind since his resurrection.

Bruce had needed to visit Metropolis for business and Alfred had persuaded him to bring them along. The fair had been hard for Dick due to its similarity to the circus; his eyes were red and puffy in the photo. Bruce had made him feel better by winning him an enormous stuffed elephant, which had earned a place of honour beside the little stuffed elephant he’d managed to take with him when he left the circus. The day was one of Dick’s favourite post-circus memories despite the toll it had taken on him emotionally.

Wally pulled Dick onto the bed and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Dick hadn’t noticed he was shaking until then.

“I’m all right,” he said quickly. “It’s just, you know, a lot has changed.”

Wally gave him a little squeeze. “It’s okay, even if you’re not. No one’s going to blame you for needing time to get your head around everything.”

“Thanks for helping out today,” Dick said, burying his face in Wally’s shoulder.

“There was no way I was going to let you deal with this alone.” Wally planted a kiss on the crown of Dick’s head. Dick let out a soft hum.

“We should get these boxes home,” he said, shoving one into Wally’s hands.


	3. Light Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick puts a new crack in his closet, has a civil conversation with Conner about mind-reading and possible indoctrination at the hands of the Light, and enlists M'gann's assistance in putting any concerns to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the chapter title's a little punny. Don't groan at me.

Hanging up the spare Nightwing suits in the closet where Robin’s had once been was a… perturbing experience. No matter how much Dick fussed and fiddled, they just didn’t look like they belonged there. He moved on to adding the spare civilian clothes in the hopes that maybe the costumes would look better in a fuller closet, but, if anything, that only made the situation worse. Wally wasn’t there to take his mind off it—he was stuck at home with a pile of assignments—and Dick wasn’t about to go complaining to anybody else because he was getting worked up over _his clothes looking wrong_. He slammed the closet shut in frustration.

“You’re lucky,” someone said behind him. Dick whirled around to find Conner of all people leaning against the doorframe. “I did that once and broke the door.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Dick replied. If Conner was going to talk to him like he wasn’t about to betray them all… well, he kind of needed the normality right now. “You were pretty angry for a while there.”

“Still am,” Conner replied with a shrug. “I just got better at dealing with it. Or I thought I did.”

“…meaning?”

Conner sighed. “M’gann mentioned I was being a jerk about, you know, you. Honestly, I still don’t trust you’re the same guy as before.”

“I’m not.” Dick half-considered sitting down on his bed just to _do something_ but his muscles felt all coiled up and tight and definitely weren’t about to let him relax for even a second. “The kid you knew back then is dead. He’s not coming back.” Quickly, in response to Conner’s frown, he added, “Not literally. I mean—I don’t—I… oh, forget it. Long story short, don’t expect me to start laughing in combat ever again.”

“…right.”

“Batman ran every test he could think of to make sure I’m not a clone,” Dick said. “He even invented some new ones based on minute genetic differences between the two Roy Harpers he found when studying their genetic codes in detail since the original Roy still had a DNA sample on file from years ago. The differences are minor, mostly, but if you know what you’re looking for…”

“Even if you’re not a clone, the Light could still have messed with your head,” Connor interrupted. “M’gann said you were still planning to let her read your mind.”

“Yeah, I might have been putting it off.” Dick gave a sheepish smile. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“ _Today_.”

“Okay, okay.” Dick made a mental note to call Wally first. He didn’t have any illusions about his ability to get through this without his help.

Conner stalked off. Dick couldn’t blame him for being concerned, really, but that didn’t make him feel any less alienated from a place that used to be like a second home to him. He deliberately turned away from the closet before he gave into the urge to kick it and fished out his phone. Wally’s parents didn’t like him using his communicator at home for some reason.

Wally picked up almost instantly. “Hey, beautiful. Are you coming to rescue me from this—” Papers rustled on his end of the line, “—god _damn_ _assignment_ oh my God I’m going to—”

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no, just the last vestiges of my sanity bleeding out of my fingers, through my pen and into the paper.”

“What subject is the culprit this time?”

“Math. Like, I’m not even bad at math but _this motherfudging piece of_ —oh, hey, Mum.”

“Need a hand?” asked Dick.

“Just a sec.” Wally’s voice then grew distant as he addressed his mother. “It’s Dick. Yes, I’ve been doing it. He called me, like, less than a minute ago. He offered to help. Can he help? Can I go to the Cave to get help? Really? Yes! Hey, Dick, I’ll be at the Cave in a few.” He hung up. Dick just hoped the homework wasn’t too taxing. His mind wasn’t exactly all in the one place at the moment.

It didn’t take long for Wally to tornado into Dick’s room—he hadn’t bothered closing the door after Conner’s departure—and throw his homework onto the floor, scattering papers everywhere. Dick did his best to catch them, but one still ended up flying under his bed.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” he asked, retrieving that last sheet.

Wally threw himself on the floor. “Everything. Everything’s the problem.”

Dick rolled his eyes and sat down beside him. “Why don’t you show me where you ran into trouble?”

Even with Wally’s histrionics, it didn’t take long for Dick to figure out the problem, walk Wally through it and make him do the rest himself.

“Sooo, why is there a new crack in your closet door?” Wally asked, dropping his pencil.

“Just do your work.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing it! I deserve a break.”

“The costumes looked wrong,” Dick muttered.

“Huh?”

“My new costumes didn’t look like they belonged there even after I put the rest of my clothes in,” Dick said irritably, shuffling away to rest his back against the side of his bed. “Now shut up and do your work.”

“Dick, I—”

“Just stop.”

Neither of them spoke again until Wally had finished writing. He packed up his work and crawled over to Dick’s side.

Dick sighed. “What?”

“About the costumes…” Wally rubbed the back of his neck and was quiet for so long that Dick was about ready to smack him. “Maybe it’ll just take a little time, you know, to settle in.”

“They’re clothes, not people.”

Wally dropped his head onto the younger boy’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck. “Okay, maybe it’ll just take _you_ a little time to settle in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It was difficult to be annoyed with Wally when he was behaving like a puppy. “Conner came to talk to me before I called you.”

“What about?”

“He said the only way I’m going to convince I’m not brainwashed is if I let M’gann read my mind,” Dick said. “He wants me to do it today.”

“Only if you think you’re ready for it,” Wally replied. “If you’re not, take all the time you need.”

“I’m not getting any readier. I was hoping you could be there, just in case.”

“Sure thing.”

“Let’s go.” Dick pulled Wally up with him.

“Wait.” Wally planted a light kiss on his nose. “Okay, now we can go.”

“Sap.”

* * *

They found M’gann in one of the spare training rooms, tossing spherical weights around with her telekinesis. While team training sessions usually occurred in the main chamber, the cave held a number of smaller rooms and a gym for use outside of official training times.

M’gann laid the weights back where they belonged on the rack against the wall. “Hi, Wally. Hi, Dick. Conner said he was going to talk to you.”

“He did,” Dick replied. “That’s why I’m here. I want to talk about it before we try any mind-reading.”

“Of course!” M’gann floated past them. “Come on. Let’s talk in my room.”

M’gann’s bedroom walls were so covered in posters that it was almost impossible to see the wall underneath. Aside from the unsurprising _Hello Megan!_ posters, there were some of various movies, singers, assorted bands, and even a Flying Graysons poster. M’gann caught Dick staring at it.

“Oh. Uh.” She smiled sheepishly. “I got it while we were on tour with the circus. I could take it down if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay,” Dick replied. “I’ve got at least five of them floating around somewhere.”

“Aw, that’s kind of sweet. Sad… but sweet.” M’gann frowned. “Wait. I’m sorry, was that rude of me?”

“It’s fine, M’gann.” It was nice that she was concerned, though.

“Right. So, uh, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to know if you’ll have to go through my memories while you’re looking for signs of brainwashing,” Dick replied.

“I think so. It won’t be the same as looking through Conner and Roy’s minds for programming, since any indoctrination happened while they were being created.  If you have any gaps in your memory, though, we can look at those first. We might not have to look through your other memories that way.”

Dick screwed up his face, thinking back. It was not a pleasant experience, but Wally put a hand on his shoulder to help ground him. “I have a few holes here and there but I was already far away from Ra’s al Ghul at that point. Unless you count the time when I was dead.”

“Then I guess that’s where we should look first,” said M’gann.

“I can’t wait,” Dick said dryly.

“Just how safe is this exactly?” Wally asked.

“I’ve been practising,” M’gann replied. “Besides, I can ask Uncle J’onn to supervise.”

“If any possible indoctrination happened while I was dead,” said Dick, “do we still need to look at the memories on either side of it?”

“Probably. That’ll give me a baseline for comparison before and after your death, which might make it easier to figure out if your brain has been altered.”

“How do things like, say, psychological conditions factor into that?” Wally asked. “I mean, Dick went through a lot, and the Lazarus Pit makes you crazy as it is.”

M’gann fixed her eyes on Dick. “What condition do you have?”

“Black Canary diagnosed me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Dick avoided her stare; it was making him uncomfortable. “Since it apparently alters brain functions, it might be trickier to find out if somebody has deliberately messed with my head.”

M’gann made a noise that sounded a bit like ‘euch’. “I’ll… talk to Uncle J’onn.”

* * *

The conversation had done nothing to make Dick feel better about letting anyone inside his head. Waiting for M’gann to finish talking with her uncle wasn’t helping, either. Wally eventually dragged him out to the living area to watch TV with the rest of the team, but Dick’s attention was so scattered that he couldn’t focus on the plot of whatever show they were watching.

Every muscle in his body was coiled tight and he was one loud noise away from leaping out of his seat. Wally had shuffled closer to him over the course of the show and, honestly, his presence was about the only thing keeping Dick there.

He was almost relieved when M’gann finally returned with the Martian Manhunter in tow. Well, he was relived for all of five seconds before the realisation that meant he’d have to let one of them in his head soon crashed back down upon him.

Conner muted the TV, ignoring Artemis’s protestations that they were getting to the good part.

“I have not yet had the chance to welcome you back, Richard,” said the Martian Manhunter. “M’gann informs me she requires assistance in determining whether your mind has suffered any indoctrination at the hands of the Light.”

Dick got up, dragging Wally to his feet. “Maybe we should talk about this in private.” He didn’t exactly want to explain his neuroses to the entire team.

They ended up in the office adjacent to the medical bay, which, Dick recalled, was soundproofed to prevent certain kryptonians overhearing conversations of a medical nature they weren’t meant to overhear. Sound from the main area was routed through a speaker that could be turned on and off.

Dick and Wally claimed the loveseat near the door while M’gann telekinetically turned one of the chairs by the desk to face them. The Martian Manhunter remained standing beside her.

“How much did M’gann tell you?” Dick asked.

“You have developed a mental illness which may impede attempts to examine the required memories,” said the Martian Manhunter.

“Uncle J’onn and I came up with an idea,” M’gann added. “With his help, I should be able to stabilise the connection enough to distance you from the memories we’re examining. We don’t know how well it’ll work, but it might make the process easier for you.”

“And if something goes wrong?” Wally said. His hand twitched like he was about to grab Dick’s. Dick was torn between wishing he’d gone through with it and not wanting anybody to touch him.

“I should be able to safely sever the connection,” replied the Martian Manhunter.

“Like you did with that training exercise?” Wally’s tone didn’t _quite_ edge into rudeness, but it was well on the way there.

“We didn’t understand how strong my abilities were back then,” M’gann told him. “I was overwhelmed by everyone’s emotions, including my own, and took over the simulation by accident. There are fewer people involved this time and I have a better control over my abilities. It’s probably never going to be completely safe, but our chances are better now than they were back then.”

“We need to find out whether the Light reprogrammed my brain, Wally,” Dick said quietly. “If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

“I don’t have a better idea,” Wally muttered. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I don’t like it either,” Dick admitted. “Do you guys have a backup plan if something goes wrong and J’onn can’t break the connection?”

“It is possible for another person to be connected as I was during the aforementioned simulation,” the Martian Manhunter said.

“But anybody who comes in might get confused like you did,” M’gann replied.

“I may be able to help ground another person entering.”

“By ‘another person’, I guess you mean me,” said Wally.

“You don’t have to,” replied Dick.

Wally gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Nah, it’s okay. I want to help.” Dick was tempted to kiss him, but M’gann was talking again.

“We’ll ground Dick the best we can,” she said, “but it’s still possible he’ll be overwhelmed by his own memories, which could feed back into me and make me lose control of the link. If that happens, Uncle J’onn can send Wally in to try and calm Dick down enough to let me regain control and shut everything down. How does that sound?”

“Dangerous as hell,” Dick answered honestly. “But I can’t see an alternative.”

M’gann shifted forward in her seat, slowly straightening her posture. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m going to get, I guess.” Dick found himself mirroring her position; he’d discovered years ago that going into psychic links with poor posture tended to result in back pain upon returning to the real world.

“Then let’s do it.” M’gann’s eyes began to glow green and the room faded away until it was just the two of them amidst a background of white.

“Nice place,” Dick commented unnecessarily. His voice echoed in the silence and he had to resist the temptation to start yelling random things just to hear them bounce around in the space like he was a freaking ten-year-old.

M’gann gave him a half-smile. “I didn’t want to throw you right into the first memory without warning.”

“Thanks.”

“I won’t make you go through the whole of what the Joker did to you,” M’gann told him. “Unless you have blank parts?”

“No, it’s pretty vivid,” Dick replied, wincing.

“Okay, I’ll try to distance you from the memory, but I can’t control how you react to it.” A large, transparent rectangle appeared a few feet to Dick’s right. “I’m trying to find an entry point. It’ll be easier if you relax.”

Dick let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. There was a light tugging sensation inside his head, like the memory didn’t quite want to be pulled out. The screen flickered to life and sounds began to filter through.

_“Maybe some more physical comedy will get this show rolling along.”_

Dick’s stomach dropped.

_The Joker pressed the edge of the crowbar against Robin’s cheek. “You haven’t sung for me yet, Birdie.”_

“Dick.” M’gann’s voice sounded distant, like she was shouting at him from across a busy road. “Dick. Breathe.”

_He dug the crowbar into Robin’s shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. Robin cursed under his breath as his spine creaked and scraped against itself. “Ooh, didn’t like that, did you? Tell me what hurts more: forehand…”_

**_Crack_** _._ Dick felt his ribs cave under the blow.

_“…or backhand?” **Crack**._

M’gann’s voice was still calling to him, but it was fading rapidly.

He couldn’t breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a jerk.


	4. Damn Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M'gann's attempt to sift through Dick's memories goes wrong, forcing Wally to enter the mind link and break the hold Dick's memories have over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be slightly tipsy and fully prepared to use that as an excuse for errors or crappy writing (I may have done most of the work before that but shhhhh). We can definitely blame the chapter title on the alcohol anyway.

Dick made a choked noise and a shudder heaved through his body. Wally reached out to steady him.

“That’s not good,” he said, looking up at the Martian Manhunter, who had moved to assist M’gann. Her appearance rippled briefly—for a moment she was too tall for the chair and her skin had turned white—before she seemed to regain control and return to her usual petite, green-skinned form. Whatever was happening in their heads, it was using up enough of her concentration that she could barely control her shape.

“Richard is reacting poorly to the memory,” the Martian Manhunter said. Dick’s face was turning a sickly grey.

“Send me in,” Wally replied, gently pushing Dick back by the shoulders so the chair could support him. “Now.”

The room fell away.

The first thing Wally witnessed was M’gann’s voice, high and panicked. Everything shimmered into place around him. Dick had collapsed on the… it was sometimes a floor and sometimes just white blankness. A rectangle hovered in the air nearby, only barely containing the memory of the laughing Joker beating a helpless Robin within its borders. Those borders were fading in and out; every time they vanished, the scene bled outwards and Dick writhed harder from his spot on the not-floor. His appearance was flickering; sometimes he was a little Robin again and sometimes he was just Dick. M’gann was barely more than smoke, solid enough to scream but not enough to take control of the situation. Her image grew weaker every time the surroundings pulsed and shifted.

“I’ll try to calm him down,” Wally called to her. Her attention shifted to him for less than a second before she focused on Dick again; she was using every ounce of power she had to stop herself from fading out completely. She wouldn’t be able to help him unless he pulled Dick out of his panic.

Wally made it over to Dick without trouble. The memory broke the banks of the screen again and a terrible, maniacal laughter filled the space. Dick—Robin—jerked silently, like he’d just been hit with an invisible weapon. There was blood on his lips one second, and nothing the next. The memory was patchy, jumping back and forth and sometimes it wasn’t even coherent at all.

M’gann, sweet little M’gann, actually _swore_ as their surroundings shuddered again. “The memory’s falling apart!”

“I take it that’s a bad thing?” Wally shouted back. Dick’s forehead was icy beneath his palm.

“If it breaks down while we’re still connected, we could all end up in a coma… or worse!” M’gann’s voice was fading again alongside her body. Who knew how much longer she could hold everyone together?

Wally turned his attention back to Dick, who let out a sob. Joker’s laugh boomed into the space again.

_“Sorry, kid. I got a little… excited.”_ It sounded like he might be talking for a while. Good. If he was talking, he wasn’t hurting Dick. Wally seized the opportunity while the Joker rambled on about his Grand Evil Plan. Why did villains always feel the need to monologue?

“Dick?” Wally tapped the younger boy’s cheek. “Dick, can you hear me?” Dick groaned and turned his face away. “Dude, no. Listen to me. This is a memory. M’gann’s trying to hold everything together so we don’t all end up in comas, but you’ve got to help us out here.”

Everything was shifting again. Robin’s broken domino mask was phasing in and out of existence on his face.

“Dick… babe… focus on me.” Wally turned Dick’s head by the chin. The one eye visible through a broken mask lens was glazed over. “This isn’t real, but you need to calm down.” He spared a glance at the screen. Robin was staring down a bomb on a twenty-second countdown; he didn’t need M’gann to tell him what could happen if the counter reached zero while Dick was still tangled up in the memory. “Shit. Okay.” He managed to snake an arm beneath Dick’s shoulders and pull the boy to his chest. Maybe if he got him remembering something else, and quickly… “You’re okay, remember? You came home and we roasted marshmallows and sausages over a campfire and listened to the radio and I made you get up and dance with me because I dedicated an Enrique Iglesias song to you. Remember that?”

Everything around them wavered and the fabric beneath Wally’s fingers softened into the hoodie Dick was wearing in reality, but the clock was still counting down.

“And then I told you I loved you and you kissed me so hard we fell over,” Wally continued. “And you were so embarrassed by everything so you buried your face in my sweater.”

Dick let out a sob-laugh, life coming back into his body at last, and he hid his now unmasked face against Wally’s chest. “Yeah.”

“That was a good night, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was.”

Everything around them faded to white and M’gann let out a relieved sigh as she solidified again. “That was close,” she said, kneeling beside the two boys. Dick was still weak and shaky in Wally’s arms, but at least they were no longer at risk.

“Can you get us out of here now?” asked Wally.

“I need a minute.” M’gann let out a long breath. “That took a lot more out of me than I expected.”

“Sorry.” Dick sat up, pushing Wally’s helping hands away. Wally could see his mask of composure sliding back into place, but it wouldn’t last long. Not when he was this rattled. Nevertheless, it probably wasn’t a good idea to touch him again unless he showed signs that he wanted to be touched.

“You didn’t get to look for indoctrination, did you?” Wally asked M’gann, who shook her head.

“Once the memory became too potent, all I could do was try not to get blown away,” she replied. “We’ll have to try again, once we’ve all recovered.”

“Great,” Dick muttered.

“I’m ready to take us out, if you guys are ready?”

“Go for it.” Dick sounded like he wanted to lie down and go to sleep right there. Wally offered his hand, but Dick ignored it. The whiteness around them began to fade.

* * *

Dick’s eyes were shut and it was going to take something momentous for him to open them. He could hear Wally’s voice in his ear, but the words were unintelligible to him. His body was aching _everywhere_. It didn’t seem to matter that he hadn’t taken any real hits. They had felt real enough. God, he just wished Wally would _stop talking and leave him alone_.

**“Dick?”** M’gann’s voice was in his head. Dick jerked involuntarily against the intrusion, opening his eyes at last to glare at her. “Sorry,” she said aloud. “We couldn’t get through to you.”

Wally was hovering just in his space, but at least he wasn’t trying to touch him. Dick didn’t want to be touched; the very thought of having hands on him right now made him want to hit something.

“Would it be inappropriate for me to congratulate you guys on getting together right now?” M’gann asked when it became clear nobody else was going to speak.

Dick forced a smile; he thought for a moment that his face would split in half from the effort. “Uh, I guess not.” Wally visibly relaxed beside him.

“I should get you home,” he said. “Do you feel up to moving?”

“I’ll cope.” Dick batted Wally’s proffered hand away and got up by himself. A wave of nausea nearly sent him reeling backwards.

“We talk about this tomorrow,” Wally told M’gann as he opened the door for Dick. “You… should probably lie down, M’gann. You look a little… well, not _green_ because that’s normal for you.”

M’gann smiled weakly at him. “I know what you mean. Go take care of Dick and stop worrying about me.”

“As long as you take care of yourself,” Wally said, ushering Dick out the door.

“I can get home fine by myself,” Dick said irritably; something about what M’gann had said rubbed him the wrong way. He was capable of taking care of himself, damn it.

“I’m sure you can,” Wally said diplomatically as they started back toward the main chamber. “But it wouldn’t be very responsible of me to leave you alone when you’re feeling crappy, would it?”

“I guess not,” Dick grumbled. They reached the main chamber and he keyed in their destination and passcode into the zeta tube’s computer. It took him three tries because his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Damn security measures. Damn hands. Damn everything.

They rematerialized in the Batcave, where Dick would’ve fallen flat on his face if Wally hadn’t caught him. “Gotcha!”

“Thanks,” Dick muttered, annoyed that Wally had to catch him in the first place.

Wally was still holding him. “What did you want to do? I could find Alfred if you wanted some tea or something to eat.”

Dick shook his head and started for the gym area of the cave. Better to take out his newly-returned rage and frustration on a punching bag rather than a human, no matter how quickly that human may heal from it. Wally followed him silently, watching from a respectful distance as Dick threw off his hoodie and wrapped his hands. The last thing he needed right now was to cause himself an injury because he was in too shitty a mood to pull his punches. He was wearing a singlet and sweatpants today so he didn’t need to worry about changing clothes, thank God. He didn’t think he had the patience for that.

Bruce appeared seemingly out of nowhere, which made Wally let out a yelp. He passed a pair of training gloves to Dick before leaving the room again. Dick had been too distracted to notice his approach. Sloppy.

“Where did he even _come from_?” Wally whimpered. Dick almost smiled as he pulled on the gloves. Almost.

The first punch to the bag shook loose the tightness of his insides. He let out a long breath.

“You tell that bag, babe.” Wally was sitting on a bench by the wall, next to a water bottle Bruce had probably put there without anybody noticing. Dick made a face at him, then lowered himself into a proper fighting stance and threw another punch. And another.

Dick’s concentration finally returned to him and he sharpened his focus to a fine point, with nothing but him and the punching bag and his fists. It was all too easy to imagine the punching bag as every single bastard that had taken a shot at him, the Joker chief among them. He hit the bag so hard that it swung back and smacked him in the stomach, but he just kicked it away again.

“You okay?” Wally asked him.

“Fucking peachy.” Dick roundhouse kicked the damn thing because screw this bag screw the Joker screw _everything_. He was tired of being fate’s personal punching bag. Even when he tried to do the right thing, it just blew up in his face. _God damn it_.

Dick slammed his fist into the bag one last time before he stumbled away and fell flat on his face like a freaking toddler. Wally was at his side in an instant.

“You haven’t been sleeping again,” he said quietly, helping the younger boy to the bench and passing him the water bottle.

Dick tugged off his gloves and took a long sip of water to avoid answering. All that enraged energy had just… left him. He was back to wanting to curl up and go to sleep. Wally offered a hand to help him up. Dick contemplated ignoring it, but eventually decided he could use the help. Wally kept holding on as they exited the cave for the manor proper. Dick didn’t feel up to having a shower, so he unwrapped his hands, freshened up with a washcloth in the bathroom and put on a change of clothes before returning to Wally, who was waiting in Dick’s adjacent room. With his homework.

“I forgot I left it in your room at Mount Justice,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

“Do you need to get home?”

“Not really. I can stay if you need me.”

Dick groaned and fell facefirst onto his bed. Fingers combed through his hair.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

Dick turned his head to watch Wally kick off his shoes and lie down beside him. The older boy planted a kiss on his forehead and Dick wriggled close enough to grab his arms and put them around him. Wally gathered him up to his chest without any further prompting. Dick wasted no time getting himself all tangled up in his boyfriend’s legs and settling down to rest.

“Love you,” Wally whispered, giving him a good, long squeeze. Dick let himself deflate, trusting Wally to take care of him while he slept.

* * *

He woke some time later to darkness. A vaguely human shape loomed nearby. Dick lay very still, ready to grab them if they tried anything.

“It’s me,” Bruce said, turning on the bedside lamp. Dick almost sighed with relief. He was too twitchy these days.

“Where’s Wally?” he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“Eating dinner. He wanted to let you sleep a little longer.”

“That’s nice of him.” Dick frowned at the blanket that was lying on top of him. When did that get there?

“Alfred,” Bruce said by way of explanation.

“Of course.”

Bruce sat on the end of the bed. “Wally told me Miss Martian wasn’t able to determine whether the Light indoctrinated you.”

“She didn’t get a chance before I flipped out,” Dick grumbled. The memory of what happened in the mind link sat unshakeably heavy in the pit of his stomach. “Wally had to go in there and calm me down before I ended up putting us in a coma or something.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“You’re not going to say ‘I told you so’?”

“No. I understand the necessity of ensuring your mind hasn’t been tampered with. Any concerns I had were purely for your well-being.” Bruce hadn’t been especially vocal about his concerns when Dick had mentioned the possibility of a Martian mind-reading, but his displeasure had been clear enough.

“We’ll have to try it again,” Dick said, as utterly exciting as the idea was to him. “Preferably when M’gann isn’t drained and I’m not off swimming in the deep end.”

“You have a session with Dinah tomorrow. Talk to her about it.”

Dick groaned and buried his face in the pillow. Bruce chuckled.

“Come on, Dick. You should eat.”

Dick grumbled incoherently into the pillow, until Bruce pulled it out from beneath him. “Bruuuuuuuce!”

“Up.”

“You’re a bad person,” Dick complained, rolling out of bed.

“So I’ve been told.” Bruce threw a pair of shoes in Dick’s direction. “Hurry up.”

Dick grumbled some more as he put them on. “I’m not even hungry.”

“You missed lunch. You’re not skipping dinner.” Bruce’s voice was halfway to Batman, which left no room for argument.

Dick huffed and headed for the door. Bruce reached out as he passed, resting his hand on the boy’s head. Dick froze, tense for a moment, before he forced himself to relax again. Physical affection from Bruce was like… sunshine. It was easy enough for Dick to lock himself away and try to get by without it. Hell, there were times when he felt like self-isolation was the only way to survive his darker moments. But all it took was one slip—a sliver of golden light through the curtains, a single touch—to realise how much he missed it.

And to think it was only a few hours ago that Dick couldn’t stand to have anybody touch him.

He was seconds away from falling to pieces again. Bruce ran his hand through the boy’s hair and down his neck to rest between the shoulder blades, pulling him into a proper embrace. He remained silent as Dick breathed in shallow gasps of air, grabbing fistfuls of the man’s shirt to keep himself present. The memories were razor-sharp and overbright. They were going to shred him to little pieces and burn out his eyes if he let them. He couldn’t let them.

Bruce held him tighter, as if he could hold Dick together through brute strength alone. It helped.

Eventually, enough time passed that Alfred came to check on them. “Is everything all right?” he asked. Dick burrowed into the relative privacy of Bruce’s shirt, heat rising in his face. It was bad enough that he’d fallen apart in front of Bruce, let alone _Alfred_.

“Could you bring Dick something to eat?” Bruce responded. “He’s not up to coming down for dinner.”

“Certainly, sir. Shall I inform Master Wally?”

“That’s… probably a good idea.”

“Right away, sir.”

Bruce set Dick down on the edge of the bed, keeping a hand on his back to ground him. “What do you need? What can I do?”

Dick hunched over with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees—his hands were shaking too much to support anything themselves. He wasn’t ready to speak yet. Bruce, thank God, didn’t push him for a response.

Alfred showed up with a tray of food, and Wally. “The bat signal has been lit, sir. Master Jason is already preparing to leave.”

Bruce grunted in annoyance. “Dick—”

Dick sat up at last. “It’s okay,” he said tiredly.

“I’ll take care of him,” Wally promised. Bruce fixed him with a glare that said _you’d better_.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, standing up.

“Don’t bother,” Dick replied. “I’ll be asleep when you get back anyway.” Bruce gave his shoulder a hard squeeze before he left.

Alfred set the dinner tray on the bedside table. “Do try to finish your meal, Master Dick, for the sake of your health.”

Dick laughed weakly, his voice tipping upwards into hysteria.

Wally was by his side in an instant, clutching one of the younger boy’s hands to his chest. “Hey, take a deep breath, okay?” Alfred passed Wally a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”

It took all of Dick’s concentration, and both hands, not to spill the whole damn thing all over himself. Draining half the glass in one go made him feel marginally better. Wally, no longer having access to his boyfriend’s hands, started rubbing his back instead.

“Did that help?”

“A little.” Dick set the glass aside and accepted the tray from Alfred, who hadn’t made a single comment about the impropriety of taking a meal on the bed. Dick must’ve looked even worse than he felt. Alfred left him in Wally’s care and left, most likely to check on Batman and Robin’s progress.

Alfred had been considerate with the amount of food he provided—a small bowl of spaghetti and a side of salad. Even that was probably too much for Dick to stomach, but he gave it a good try. Wally cuddled up to his side and kissed his temple every so often as encouragement. The last few bites were difficult, but he managed to finish.

“Well done, babe,” Wally said, just before he decided it was a good idea to blow a raspberry into Dick’s neck. Dick came perilously close to dropping the tray.

“ _Wally_.”

“Shh. You need more cuddles.”

“You make a compelling argument.” Dick placed the tray on the bedside table and climbed onto the bed proper. Wally tackled him onto the pillows, laughing evilly all the while. Dick twined his legs around the older boy’s waist and used that as leverage to flip them both over.

“Did Alfred lace that spaghetti with caffeine or something? Not that I’m complaining…”

“Oh, hush.” Dick wriggled into a more comfortable position, pillowing his head on Wally’s chest. Wally wrapped his arms around him and gave him a good squeeze.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked softly. Dick hummed in response. “I’ll take that as a yes. God, you had me worried.”

Dick jabbed him in the ribs. “Less talk, more cuddling.”


	5. Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick gets advice from Black Canary on handling the intensity of his memories, and he tries the mind link with M'gann again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody who has trouble dealing with panic attacks and vomiting might want to stop reading the chapter when the boys go home.
> 
> Regarding the locations of Gotham and Central City: I'm working with a common idea that Gotham is in New Jersey and Central City is in Missouri. There might be other theories on their locations, but that's what I'm going with. We already know Happy Harbour is in Rhode Island from watching the show, as it's specifically mentioned in at least one episode.

The room where Black Canary held therapy sessions, like the medical office, was one of the few places inside Mount Justice that was almost completely soundproofed. Most rooms avoided too much of it due to its tactical disadvantage in an emergency situation. The bedroom walls contained soundproofing materials on the sides that connected to other rooms, but the wall facing the door did not. Dick was familiar with the structure of the cave inside Mount Justice, from the general layout to the materials used in its construction; it had seemed like a good idea after Red Tornado’s siblings attempted to invade a few years back.

Of course, mentally examining the structure of Mount Justice probably wasn’t the best thing to do while in therapy. Dick had developed a tendency to zone out and focus on irrelevant things during these sessions. Black Canary had once suggested it was a coping mechanism, since their conversations could often become difficult for Dick to handle. She was probably right.

Dick dragged his attention back to the here and now. Black Canary was watching him, the end of her pencil tapping against her notepad.

“Welcome back,” she said lightly, before getting back to business. “So, do you think a lack of preparation might have contributed to the effect M’gann’s mind-reading had on you?”

Dick shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. But how do you prepare yourself for something like that?”

“Perhaps taking some time to stabilise yourself beforehand could have helped?” Black Canary suggested. “From what you told me, it sounds like you were anxious even before M’gann attempted to establish contact.”

“Of course I was anxious,” Dick said irritably. “I have to relive that memory of the Joker  _murdering me_  enough without seeking the damn thing out.”

“And that may have made it harder to withstand the level of recollection M’gann needed,” Black Canary replied calmly. “Given how irritable you’ve been today, I’m assuming those feelings haven’t gone away.”

Dick huffed. “I’m just pissed that we have to do it again because I couldn’t deal with it the first time. If I couldn’t do it then, how am I supposed to do it now?”

“We’ll find a way,” Black Canary promised. “You know how intense it is now, and we know it’s possible for somebody to enter the mind if you need help. There’s  _nothing wrong with needing help_ ,” she added before Dick could complain.

Dick groaned at her and dropped his head onto one of his arms resting on the armrest. “None of that’s going to help.”

“Which brings me back to what I was saying before,” Black Canary cut in before Dick could get too melodramatic. “Taking some time to calm and ground yourself before entering the mind link might help you cope.”

“As if I’ll be able to do that right before I deliberately trigger myself,” Dick grumbled.

“It’s worth a try,” Black Canary insisted. “In addition to that, using grounding techniques while witnessing the memory might help stop it from overwhelming you. Asking yourself out loud how old you are, where you are, the date, describing your clothes… things like that. You can also simulate physical sensations, such as snapping and elastic band against your skin, to remind yourself what’s real and what isn’t.”

“What if I get mixed up and think the memory’s real?”

“Wally can help ground you,” said Black Canary. “He can ask you the questions, remind you where you are if you forget.”

“I guess.”

Black Canary got up to rummage through a drawer in the corner of the room. She flicked a rubber band in Dick’s direction, aiming it well enough that it bounced off an armrest and landed in his lap. Dick put it on his wrist.

Black Canary sat down again. “Take everything I’ve said into account, but if you’re not ready to do this, I’m sure we can put it off for another day.”

Dick shook his head. “I want to get it over with.”

“Okay. The Martians should be arriving soon. In the meantime, let’s practise some calming techniques.”

* * *

It was decided that the second mind link would take place in the same place as Dick’s therapy session. Wally sat on the armrest to Dick’s right, absent-mindedly trailing his fingers through the younger boy’s black hair. Black Canary had given up her seat for M’gann, but stuck around, flicking through the notes she’d taken in Dick’s session. They had already discussed Black Canary’s suggestions.

“Are you ready, Dick?” M’gann asked. She seemed smaller than usual, and her smile was forced.

Dick had been trying a few good old-fashioned Bat-meditation techniques Bruce had taught him over the years, so it took him a moment to reorient himself and register the question. “Ready as I’m going to get, I guess.”

“Martian Manhunter will bring me in as soon as the memory starts.” Wally’s hand slid down from Dick’s hair to rest on his shoulder. “We’ll help you get through this, babe. I promise.” Dick squeezed his hand, looking up into Wally’s earnest face, and he couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

“I know. Thank you.” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The room feel away and was replaced by a familiar white expanse. Dick felt for his wrist to find the rubber band was still there. Good.

M’gann was floating about a foot off where the floor would be if it was possible to distinguish it from the rest of the white. “Do you need a minute?”

“Yeah.” Dick closed his eyes and took a few slow breaths. They had plans in place to stop him from getting lost again and Wally would be here soon. He just had to hold on long enough to get through it. He could fall apart later once the danger was over.

Dick opened his eyes and nodded at M’gann. The tugging sensation in his head wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it had been yesterday, and the floating rectangle of his memory materialised more quickly. He was ready for it this time.

 _“Maybe some more physical comedy will get this show rolling along.”_ Okay, so it started at about the same point as last time. That was okay; he could deal with that.

_The Joker pressed the edge of the crowbar against Robin’s cheek. “You haven’t sung for me yet, Birdie.”_

“Dick?”

Dick flicked the rubber band against the underside of his wrist, while the memory-Joker dug the crowbar into Robin’s shoulder on the screen. The pain bloomed in Dick’s shoulderblade just like in the memory, but another sharp snap of the rubber band reminded him it wasn’t real anymore.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “I’m here, babe.” Wally had materialised in the mind link at last.

_“Ooh, didn’t like that, did you? Tell me what hurts more: forehand…”_

**_Crack._**  Now that one, Dick  _really_ felt. Wally’s grip on his shoulder tightened to the point of pain.

“Not real, Dick. It’s not real.”

_“…or backhand?” **Crack.**_

Dick snapped the rubber band again, but it was getting tricky to differentiate from the memory and the present.

“Hey…” Wally prodded him. “Let’s talk about something. Tell me about… the circus. Your family. You were named after them, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Dick swallowed; memory-Joker’s beatings were becoming more frenzied and it was hard to breathe, let alone think straight. “Richard after my uncle, John after my dad. My cousin John was named after them too, but in the opposite order.”

“Tell me about your cousin,” Wally prompted.

Dick had to take a few breaths before he could bring himself to speak again, at which point the memory-Joker had finally taken a break from beating Robin with the crowbar. “John was a few years older than me. We used to get in a lot of trouble around the circus—climbing into animal cages, practising at night while the adults were asleep, trying to juggle the sword-eater’s swords—but John always got more blame for it than me, probably because he was older and meant to be setting an example.” Dick, despite the situation, found himself smiling a little. “Dad knew what was up, though. If anything,  _I_ was the bad influence.”

Wally snorted. “Of course you were.”

“I had the circus wrapped around my finger,” Dick continued, “so it wasn’t often that I got into serious trouble, though John would find ways to make me suffer alongside him whenever he got punished, so we ended up shovelling a lot of animal dung together. We didn’t fight much, though, and he always knew the right thing to say when I was upset. I was too young to do a lot of the dangerous stunts on the trapeze, but John would always just ruffle my hair and say, ‘Don’t worry squirt, you’ll get a chance sooner than you think.’ I never got that chance, since they all died before I was old enough to join them.”

Wally’s arm migrated to his opposite shoulder and the pulled the younger boy in close. “Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best thing to get you to talk about when I’m trying to distract you from other bad stuff.”

Dick shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?” He’d been distracted enough that he’d just missed the next round of beatings, actually.

_“Sorry, kid. I got a little… excited.” The Joker patted Robin’s cheek. “There, there. It’s nearly over.” He let out a small giggle. “Don’t you worry about the Bat, now. I’ll explain everything to him, in excruciating detail. Everything we said, every little sound you made, every drop of blood you were rude enough to spill on this lovely floor.”_

“Bruce never really mentioned much about what went down between him and the Joker after I died,” Dick said. “Aside from the fact that the Joker ended up in a body cast for six months.”

“You sure you want to talk about that right now?” Wally said nervously. “Doesn’t seem like it’s going to help with the whole  _not getting sucked in by evil memories_ thing.”

“The torture part of the memory’s over,” Dick replied. “The worst left is the explosion, and that’s nothing in comparison to the rest, really. I was just thinking the Joker must’ve explained what he did to me in as much detail as he’d promised, to make B lose control like he did.”

_“Well, kid, I’m off.” The Joker started for the door. “Be a good boy, do your homework and be in bed by nine.” Then he was gone._

Dick watched Robin crawling for the door, a little surprised to find he felt mostly okay. Wally kept him pressed close to his side, though.

“Should you be focusing on that?” he asked. “I mean, it’s your memory, but you’re  _kinda_  making me nervous.”

Dick shrugged. “Most of this is just me trying to get out of the room. It’s not exactly pleasant, but compared to the rest it’s downright cosy.”

Wally entangled the fingers on his free hand with Dick’s, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Okay, but… I don’t know… try not to get too engrossed in it. We know how it’s going to end, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Dick rested his head on Wally’s shoulder, watching Robin give up on the door and notice the bomb. He had about twenty seconds to brace himself. He could do that. It was probably going to hurt a bit no matter what he did, but he hadn’t fallen into the memory this time. He knew he wasn’t there.

“I thought of you guys while I was watching the countdown,” he said.

“Babe, you don’t have to—”

“Wally, you were the last person I thought of,” Dick interrupted, because it suddenly felt important to tell him.

“I—oh. Not Zatanna?”

“That’s not a slight against her or anything. I did think about her, but you’re my best friend, Wally. We’ve known each other for years. You were the only person on the Team who really  _knew me_  back then.” Dick squeezed their entwined hands together. The clock had almost finished counting.

_Three seconds left. Robin closed his eyes, resigned, and counted._

_2_

_1_

Dick braced against the feeling of heat, but it was fleeting, leaving him with a pounding heart but otherwise unharmed.

“Are you okay?” M’gann asked. Dick nodded. “I’m going to pull the other memory. Are you ready?”

“Give me a sec.” Dick needed some time to slow down his heart again and reset himself mentally. He usually tried not to think about his resurrection, not that he could remember much. At best, he had flashes of burning and drowning and fighting and falling, but it was hard to solidify that into a concrete memory, even if he wanted to. That was exactly what M’gann was about to do, so he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

“Hey,” Wally whispered, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Dick shook his head clear. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Wally asked. “You look a little… shaky.”

“I’ll be fine.” Dick rolled the rubber band on his wrist between his fingers. “I know I can do it now.”

“Ready?” asked M’gann.

“Ready.”

The tugging this time was weak. M’gann frowned, raising an arm to make a pulling motion.

“Trouble?” Wally asked.

“The memory’s fragmented,” M’gann replied, balling her hand into a fist and pulling harder. Dick felt it tug so hard in his brain that he nearly toppled sideways. “I’m having trouble getting a lock on it. Can you try and concentrate a little harder on the memory, Dick?”

“ _Try_  being the key word.” After years of trying to repress the fragments, pulling them out and ordering them again was proving to be a herculean task.

M’gann let out a gasp and the screen appeared. “The connection’s shaky. Distracting yourself like you did with the last memory might break it.”

An image appeared: everything was green. Dick’s throat constricted like his oxygen supply had been cut off. Wally’s hand squeezed his hard enough to hurt.

A human form was visible among the green, flailing to reach paler regions that promised air and light. Thirteen-year-old Dick’s bandage-covered face broke the surface of the water, and he screamed and tore at the bandages, releasing his face and dripping hair. He screamed until he ran out of oxygen, took in another breath and screamed again.

The impact of his butt on the floor pulled Dick away from the memory. Wally had grabbed him under the armpits a little too late to stop him from falling outright. At the same time the memory played in third-person on the screen, it was swirling inside Dick’s head in first-person. Dick focused harder on the screen, trying to ignore how the incongruity was making his stomach turn just as badly as the memory itself.

Memory-Dick waded to the edge of the Pit, still screaming, and lashed out at the man who had moved to subdue him. He went down, and Dick lunged for the next and took him down as well.

“Well, you’re efficient, I’ll give you that,” Wally said in a small voice.

“Don’t make me hit you too,” Dick snapped.

Memory-Dick glanced up at Ra’s and Talia al Ghul, who were standing above the room on a stone ledge, before veering sharply in the opposite direction. He shoved his thumbs into another attacker’s eyes and dashed for the nearest window. A bullet whizzed by his head, courtesy of Talia, who had only missed because Ra’s grabbed her arm at the last moment.

Wally whistled. “Close one.”

“Shush.”

Memory-Dick leapt out the window, and the memory dissolved.

“Uhhh, what just happened?” said Wally.

“I jumped out a window.”

M’gann groaned, gripping the sides of her head. “That’s all I could piece together. I’m sorry.”

“Was it enough?” asked Dick.

“I… think so.” M’gann rubbed her temples, grimacing. “I couldn’t find any hint that you’ve been reprogrammed. Your mind in that memory was… scattered… but it seemed to be your own.”

Dick let Wally help him up. “That’s all we needed, M’gann. Thank you. Are you okay?”

M’gann gave him a weak smile. “I will be. Don’t worry about me. It… felt like you didn’t have any memories of before your death while you were in that place.”

“I found a place to rest after I escaped, and things started coming back to me,” Dick replied. “The first thing I remembered was the Joker’s laugh, which led to me remembering getting murdered, which then helped me figure everything else out. It wasn’t pleasant, but it worked.”

“That must’ve been terrible. Are  _you_  okay?”

Dick shrugged. “I’m dealing.”

“That’s not the same as being okay, Dick.”

“I know. Are you ready to get us out?”

“I… yes. I’m ready.”

* * *

 

The first thing Dick witnessed upon mentally returning to Black Canary’s office was Wally squawking and falling off the arm of Dick’s chair. That probably hadn’t been the best place to be when going into a mind link.

“You alive, Wally?”

Wally glared at him from his new spot on the floor. “Yeah, yeah, no thanks to you.”

“Did you get what you needed?” Black Canary asked.

M’gann nodded. “The Light hasn’t tampered with Dick’s head. His mind is… different… but that’s because of what he went through.”

“The Lazarus Pit may have helped that along a little,” Dick added. His psychological situation was old news now. No point playing it down when M’gann had just felt all that in his head anyway.

“You’ve gotten better, though,” Wally was quick to point out.

Dick snorted. “You say that like it’s some great achievement.”

“Because it is, Dick,” Black Canary chimed in.

Dick smirked. “You’re my therapist. You have to say that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Just messing with you, BC.” Dick glanced down at Wally. “Are you planning on getting up, or are you having too much fun down there?” He noticed Wally’s smirk, and the vibrations rolling off his body. “Don’t—augh!” Now he had a lapful of Wally. “Hey, Walls, I’m flattered, but not while people are watching, kay?”

Wally poked his forehead and rolled off him, squeezing himself into the chair and squishing Dick against the armrest. “Better?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, West.”

“You love it.”

M’gann laughed at them. “I missed you so much, Dick.”

“I’m a beautiful ray of sunshine.”

Wally’s cough sounded suspiciously like  _loser_ , though it got a little garbled on the end when Dick elbowed him right in the stomach. “Owww!”

“Ooh, sorry. Needed to stretch.”

“ _I hate you so much_.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Dick said in a stage-whisper. M’gann laughed again.

“All right,” said Black Canary, “That’s quite enough out of you two. If you don’t need to talk about what happened in the mind link, go home. Please.”

“I’m… pretty okay with what happened,” said Dick. “I think. I need some time to process the Lazarus memory. M’gann pieced it together for me, but I don’t know how I feel about it yet.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to talk about it,” Black Canary told him, opening the door. “Now go get some rest. You too, M’gann.”

“Bats is probably brooding in the cave waiting for you,” Wally said, pulling Dick up as he stood.

“Yeah, he does that.”

M’gann floated past them. “Will you visit tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Dick replied, though M’gann was already out of sight. “See you then.”

“All right,” said Wally, “let’s get you home. You look like you could use a sandwich.”

“I was gonna ask if you always think with your stomach, but I already know the answer to that.” Dick waved at Black Canary and the Martian Manhunter. “See you guys later.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Wally said, shoving him out the door.

* * *

 

Bruce was fairly easy to get rid of, since Jason needed help with homework. After a few sandwiches at Wally’s insistence, Dick fell into bed. As much as he could always use more sleep these days, however, it would’ve been nice if he hadn’t dreamt about drowning. And burning. No matter how much he kicked and thrashed, he could never break the surface of the green water.

He woke, gasping for air and flailing to escape from the bedcovers that had entangled themselves around his legs.

“Hey. Hey.” An arm snaked around Dick’s torso. “I’ve got you.” Wally’s palm pressed against Dick’s chest, a warm and comforting weight. Biting down on the pillow, Dick tried to relax. He wasn’t drowning. He was in bed. The bedcovers, as constraining as they currently were, posed no danger to him.

Now, if he’d just stop hyperventilating.

Wally’s palm pressed harder against Dick’s chest. “Babe, you’re safe. You’re at home. I’m here. Come on, take a breath. Okay, let it out. Slowly. Good. Keep doing that.”

Dick pressed his forehead against the spot he’d just been biting, taking another breath and letting it out as slowly as he could.

“I think,” he breathed as he slowly pulled his trapped legs out of the covers, “I’m scared of drowning.”

“That’s logical. What took you so long to work that out?”

Dick shrugged; he wasn’t panicking anymore, but now he had a headache and there was bile in his throat. “Didn’t like thinking about the Pit. And it wasn’t like I was going swimming when I had other shit to do.”

“Okay.” Wally cuddled up to Dick, pulling him back to slot together like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. “How bad do you think it is? You seemed fine during the Croc mission.”

“Dunno.” Dick wriggled to take pressure off his shoulder. “I’ll mention it to Bruce, just in case. I don’t want to be a liability on a mission. Knowing him, though, he’ll probably throw me into the pool to see if I can deal with it.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Wally replied. “The guy can be creepily pragmatic, but he’s got to know doing that would do more harm than good.”

“Okay, he wouldn’t throw me in. He’d tell me to jump in myself.” Dick rubbed an ache above his eyebrow. “Ugh, I need some painkillers or I’m not gonna get back to sleep.”

“I’ll get some.” Wally crawled out of bed and sped out of the room. Dick sprawled out on his back while he waited. While he sometimes had nightmares about the Pit, they were usually vague and jumbled. While unpleasant, they rarely elicited a panic reaction like his Joker dreams did. As disconcerting as it had been to not have a clear idea of what happened upon his resurrection, he kind of wished he hadn’t found out.

Dick’s stomach rolled ominously. He made it to the bathroom, but not to the toilet or sink, before he threw up all over the floor. He collapsed against the wall, staring at the puddle of sick, until Wally came back.

“Dick?”

“Here.”

Wally’s head appeared around the corner. “What are you… wait. Light.” He switched the light on, throwing the scene into nauseatingly sharp relief. “Oh. I’ll… get Alfred.” He passed the packet of pills and a glass of water before disappearing again.

Dick choked down two pills and drained the glass to the last drop. He felt slightly more human afterwards. At least he hadn’t thrown up on himself.

Wally returned with Alfred, who directed him to put Dick to bed while he cleaned up the mess.

“Do you think you’ll throw up again?” Wally asked, draping the bedcovers over the younger boy. Dick shook his head. Wally hovered over him, stroking his hair, until Alfred finished cleaning and came to check on them.

Alfred felt Dick’s forehead. “Are you ill, sir?”

Dick shook his head again.

“He had a nightmare and a panic attack,” Wally explained. “He said he needed some painkillers afterwards so I went and got him some and that’s when he threw up.”

“Where are you in pain, Master Dick?”

“Head.” Dick buried his face in the pillow.

“I think he’s just tired now,” said Wally. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Come to me if he gets worse,” Alfred said. “That aside, we’ll see how you feel in the morning, Master Dick. Goodnight.” He left them to sleep.

Wally climbed back into bed. “Do you think you’ll get back to sleep?”

“I don’t know.” Dick’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “I’m tired, but that doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

Wally wriggled closer. “Cuddles?”

“I smell like puke.”

“You’ve smelt worse. You can either quit whining and come here anyway, or go do something about it.”

Dick smacked him and went to brush his teeth. Wally was lying spread-eagled on the bed upon his return. Dick flopped down on top of him, earning an  _oof_  from the older boy. He cackled and wriggled into a more comfortable position.

“So, this is how we’re sleeping?”

“Shh.”

“You’re pretty heavy for a guy who just lost his dinner all over the floor.”

“You’re pretty chatty for a pillow.”

“I’m the best pillow.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I cuddle back!” Wally flipped Dick onto his back and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“Dude!” Dick’s complaint dissolved into laughter as Wally blew a raspberry into his neck. He retaliated by wiggling his fingers into Wally’s ticklish underarm, which made the older boy squawk. A bang on the door shut them up.

“That was probably Jason,” Dick whispered. “Sorry Jason!” He’d briefly forgotten his brother slept just across the hallway. Oops.

“You’re the worst big brother ever,” said Wally.

Dick rolled his eyes. “He probably thought we were having sex.”

“But you’re underage.”

“Eh, in the state of New Jersey there’s a four-year age gap exception for under-sixteens as long as they’re thirteen or older.” Dick rolled onto his side and backed up to become the little spoon again. “Trust me, I checked.”

“Of course you did.”

“But Missouri doesn’t have any exceptions like that and the age of consent over there is seventeen, so no sexytimes in Central City for a couple years, I guess.”

“Do you know the consent laws for every state in the country?”

“Only the relevant ones. Rhode Island has a two-year age gap exception for fourteen and fifteen-year-olds so we’d be in the clear there until you turn eighteen, then we’d have to wait until my birthday.”

“Oh, no. How will we survive?”

Dick muffled his laughter into the pillow. “It’s all irrelevant right anyway. Nothing’s going to happen for a long time.”

“Of course, babe.” Wally kissed his cheek. “We can wait as long as you want.”

“Damn straight. Now shut up and let me try to sleep.”


	6. Not Quite Square One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dick trains with Bruce and Jason, tests his drowning hypothesis, and gets a nasty and rather upsetting surprise. Wally yet again acts as Dick's unofficial therapist and Conner and Artemis offer to beat people up on Dick's behalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to update. My brain is a jerk.
> 
> Alternate chapter title: In Which Dick Gets to Be Briefly Happy Before I Make His Life Suck Again

Dick’s drowning hypothesis ended up being tested sooner than he’d wanted. Bruce had made sure Dick and Jason were free for the whole weekend so he could put them through some ridiculous training regimen. Wally was barred from the house for the duration. The speedster had complained that he’d be going into Alfred cookie withdrawal. Alfred had baked him a batch to take home in response.

 The obstacle course on Saturday was a piece of cake. Dick could’ve run it in his sleep, so he spent his time instead teaching Jason to traverse it as efficiently as possible while Bruce looked on, his stopwatch loose and forgotten in his hand.

Jason was a fast learner, especially for somebody without an acrobatic background. The kid was steady as a rock and extremely hard to knock over once his feet were planted. Dick got distracted by the challenge and the pair spent at least ten minutes trying to knock each other off a balance beam Bruce had placed on a particularly high stand that probably wasn’t in accordance with standards anywhere in the world. They were quite evenly matched, since Dick was extremely bendy and had a nigh-superhuman sense of balance. The boys weighed about the same, since Dick was lithe and compact despite being a little taller, and Jason was stockier to make up for the height difference. Given the size of his feet, though, Dick wouldn’t be surprised if the kid outgrew him in a few years.

Dick cartwheeled to avoid Jason’s next jab, laughing as he went. Jason had mostly stuck to punches after an attempted kick had given Dick an opportunity to nearly knock him off.

“You’re like a puppy,” Dick had teased. “A little Labrador puppy who hasn’t grown into his giant feet.”

“All the better to kick you with, dickface,” Jason had retorted before trying it. Dick had smacked his leg aside and given Jason a shove that would have caused him to fall if he hadn’t grabbed Dick’s training leotard at the neckline, forcing Dick to reel back to keep them both standing.

Dick couldn’t stop laughing at that, and it was making Jason increasingly sloppy in frustration. He was lunging with increasing ferocity, which might work for him on solid ground but wasn’t such a great idea in a situation requiring careful balance.

Jason lunged to punch again, but Dick had already moved out of the way. He caught a glimpse of Bruce’s face out of the corner of his eye; his eyes were narrowed, but the corner of his lip twitched like he was trying not to smile. Dick shot him a thousand-watt grin. Jason, assuming the older boy was distracted, lashed out again.

Dick cackled, ducked and kicked Jason’s chest while he was still unbalanced. He succeeded in unseating the kid at last, but Jason grabbed him at the last minute. They both toppled over the edge and landed hard on the mats underneath. They lay still, side-by-side, for a moment, until they heard a deep, mumble-like noise nearby and looked up.

Bruce was standing over them and  _laughing_. Well, in his quiet, repressed kind of way.

“Look, Jay, we accidentally did something hilarious,” said Dick.

“My head hurts and it’s all your fault,” Jason muttered.

“Priorities, little brother.”

“Your mum’s a priority.”

“And your point is…?” Dick chose not to mention that his mother was still very much dead. ‘Your mum’ jokes got a little tricky in a house full of orphans, but Dick had thicker skin about it than Bruce did, at least. Never tell a joke like that in front of Bruce... like Jason just had.

Bruce had stopped laughing.

“What’s up on the agenda next?” Dick asked him to avoid the potential fallout.

“Get changed and meet me at the swimming pool in five.” Bruce walked off.

“Sorry,” Jason offered. “I didn’t think.”

“It’s okay,” Dick replied. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides…” Dick got up and dusted himself off. “…your face is a priority.”

While Jason headed off to get changed, Dick hurried ahead to the pool to talk to Bruce, who was seated in a lounge chair by the window. It was always strange to see Bruce in a relaxed position, since he was rarely fully relaxed in his body, even when asleep, as Dick had found out when he used to sleep in Bruce’s bed as a kid who was particularly prone to nightmares. Bruce had relaxed over time as he got used to Dick’s presence, but he always seemed to be teetering on the edge of something.

Bruce didn’t need to ask Dick why he hadn’t changed; the question was carried in a single raised eyebrow.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Dick said. “I… haven’t really done much swimming since I died. It’s possible that I might have a… an unfavourable reaction to it since, you know…”

“The Pit,” Bruce finished for him. “Get something to eat and take the trivia test in file T24 on the batcomputer while I train Jason. We’ll address the situation while he’s having lunch.”

“Thanks, Bruce.” Dick was about to leave when Jason turned up.

“It’ll just be us for now, Jason,” Bruce told him.

“Is this because of what I said earlier? I said I was sorry.”

“It’s not.” Though from Bruce’s expression he was still a little grumpy about it. Dick was touched that Bruce was so unhappy in his behalf, but it was probably a little excessive.

Dick ruffled Jason’s hair as he headed for the door. “I just have something else I need to do. Have fun.”

* * *

Though Dick was glad he didn’t have to deal with this in front of Jason, the extra time meant he had longer to work himself into a state. What if he hit the water and panicked and Bruce had to jump in to save him? What if Bruce didn’t get to him in time again?

Okay, now he was just being ridiculous. Bruce would be literally seconds away. There was no way he’d let him drown. Still, the idea of Bruce having to save him at all was bad enough. He should be able to take care of himself, damn it. He just spent two years doing exactly that. The time he’d spent back home had softened him, turned him into some pathetic, quivering shell of himself.

Dick was too distracted to pay much attention to the trivia test and, as such, failed miserably. As if he didn’t need even more reasons to be embarrassed. If he didn’t pull himself together, Bruce would take him off patrol. He’d done it before, after Dick had suffered a panic attack one morning. As much as he’d tried to convince Bruce that he was okay come evening, Bruce had refused to budge. The memory made his cheeks burn hot with embarrassment, even to this day, despite what everyone had said about needing time off not being shameful.

Bruce came for him about an hour after the flunked test, a towel slung over one of his bare, damp shoulders. “Get changed and get to the pool.” He left again.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today,” Dick muttered once he was sure Bruce was out of earshot. But he obeyed anyway. That’s what people did whenever Bruce gave an order.

By the time he reached the pool, his heart was in his throat. This was a bad idea.

Bruce was doing laps in the pool. Dick sat on one of the lounges and watched him go, begging his legs to stop shaking. He was sure Bruce must have noticed him enter, and was deliberately giving him time to get his shit together. That was nice of him.

Bruce cut through the water with the same power and ferocity with which he did everything. It was soothing to have that level of strength on your side in battle, but having it turned against you was terrifying, as Dick had found out. He had pushed Bruce to that point, though, so he didn’t really have room to complain.

In any case, it was a testament to Bruce’s acting ability that most people in everyday society found Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, utterly unintimidating.

Bruce surfaced in the shallow end. Dick managed to get his shaking under enough control to walk over and meet him.

“Are you up to this?” Bruce asked.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Dick took the hand Bruce offered him and slid into the pool. Bruce caught him and set him down slowly until his feet hit the tiled floor. It seemed to Dick that he was trying extra hard to make sure he stayed calm. The man was incapable of staying grouchy in Dick’s presence for long, apparently, as his expression had softened by the time he let Dick go.

The water was cool around Dick’s waist. He felt calmer now.

He looked up at Bruce. “You know what? I think I’m okay.”

“Swim a few laps to make sure,” Bruce replied. “Freestyle. Go.”

Dick blew him a raspberry and used the wall to push himself across the water. Despite having not swum in a while, his muscles remembered what to do and he easily fell into a rhythm.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe.

Dick executed the turn perfectly and swam back towards Bruce, splashed him, and set off on another lap. He suspected Bruce might try to get revenge the next time he passed, so Dick decided to be proactive. He dived underwater and paddled up behind Bruce, leaping out and onto his back. Bruce barely even flinched.

“Richard,” he said sternly.

“Yes?” Dick replied innocently, his hands slipping a little on Bruce’s wet shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“Holding on for dear life, mainly. You’re very slippery.”

“I hadn’t planned to have a small human climbing me today.” Bruce batted Dick’s arms off him, making the boy fall off. Dick’s head briefly fell underwater before he got his feet back under him and resurfaced.

He spat out a mouthful of chlorinated water in Bruce’s general direction. “That was rude.”

Bruce was smirking like he’d just foiled a major criminal plot in full view of the participants, rather than dropping his child underwater for no real reason.

“You’re terrible,” Dick said, splashing him again. Bruce retaliated, and everything devolved in a splash war soon thereafter. Jason showed up at some point, and Bruce paused the action to quiz him in order to make sure enough time had passed since he’d eaten. Apparently satisfied, he dragged Jason into the pool by his leg to join in.

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident, until Batman was suiting up for the evening.

“Are you sure we can’t come with?” Dick asked him for what was probably the tenth time.

“Yes,” Batman said through his teeth, adjusting his right gauntlet. All traces of good humour from the afternoon were well and truly gone.

“Why?” Jason complained, also for what was probably the tenth time.

“Because I said—” An alarm sounded from the batcomputer and Batman raced over. “Damn it.”

“What is it?” asked Dick.

“The Joker’s escaped.” Batman was already halfway to the car when Dick pulled his thoughts together, since they’d apparently decided to go skittering away in all directions the instant the words were out of Batman’s mouth.

“I thought he was still laid up in Arkham’s hospital,” he said.

“Not anymore, apparently,” Jason muttered.

“You need backup,” Dick said, sprinting to the car before Batman could close the door.

“No.”

“We can handle it.”

“ _No_.”

“If you’re worried about Dick, I can go,” Jason tried. “Dick can stay here and help us over the computer.”

“Traitor.”

“I said no. Upstairs.  _Now_.”

There was no arguing with him when that growl seeped into his voice. Dick and Jason stepped back from the car as Batman slammed the door shut and drove out of the cave to the sound of screeching tyres and the smell of burning rubber.

Dick could’ve hit something right in that moment. “God fucking  _damn it_!” He stormed upstairs. Even as angry as he was, he still wasn’t about to disobey an order given by a pissed-off Batman. He didn’t want things to come to blows between them again.

“Are you seriously going to let that go?” Jason asked as he caught up with him.

“Going out without his knowledge or permission is risky as hell,” Dick replied. “Alfred’ll be monitoring him. If Bruce runs into trouble, we’ll know about it.”

“But—”

“Jay, the last time you disobeyed a direct order, Harley Quinn nearly pummelled you to death. Unless there is a seriously good reason for going against Bruce’s orders, we’re staying put.”

“Wally used to tell me about you, back when we all thought you were dead,” Jason said. “You’ve changed.”

“Running off alone is what got me killed in the first place,” Dick snapped. “If changing keeps both me and you alive a little longer, then fine. I’ve changed for the better.”

“If you say so,” Jason muttered. They parted ways once they reached the manor proper. Dick shut himself in his room, still fuming despite what he’d said to Jason. If Dick didn’t still feel like he was on probation, he may have been more inclined to fight Bruce harder on this. As it stood, there would be hell to pay if Bruce didn’t come back in one piece. Dick would bill the stubborn bastard himself.

Dick threw himself facefirst onto his bed, reaching blindly at his bedside table for his phone and hitting speed dial the instant it was in his hand. Hopefully Wally wasn’t busy, because he really needed to vent to somebody who wouldn’t take what he said as an invitation to go out and endanger himself. Alfred would likely be too busy monitoring Bruce, and would probably approve of Bruce’s decision to keep the boys home anyway, which was the exact opposite of what Dick needed to hear right now. He already knew that Bruce’s decision to go alone was to protect them. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Wally picked up after a few rings, slower than usual. “Hey.” Something crashed in the background and he let out a curse.

“Problems?”

“I just dropped my books,” Wally groaned. “ _All of them_.”

“Yeah, you better deal with that.” Dick rolled onto his back. “I’ll wait.”

“Kay. Just a sec.” There was a light thud over the line, which Dick assumed meant Wally had put the phone down. Dick kicked off his shoes while he waited, propelling one far enough across the room that it soared through the open bathroom door and landed on the tile. He felt marginally better.

“Done,” Wally said triumphantly shortly afterwards. “So what’s up?”

“Joker escaped from Arkham.”

“Oh.”

“And Bruce just went out after him and made the rest of us stay home.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Wally said slowly. “I mean, the last time you were in a room with him, you kinda…”

“I’m aware.”

“And I’m pretty sure he’s kept Jason away from the guy to protect him since he first became Robin.”

“I am also aware of that.”

“And you’re still pissed.”

“I’m just worried Bruce is gonna get himself killed if he keeps sidelining us whenever he thinks there’s too much danger,” said Dick. “Plus, it kind of feels like he still doesn’t trust me.”

“I’m sure he trusts you with most things,” Wally tried to assure him. “But, you know, this is the Joker we’re talking about. All bets are off. To be honest, I don’t want you anywhere near the guy, either.”

“You really suck at this comforting thing, Wally.”

Wally sighed. “Okay. Look. I get why you’re frustrated. I do. But in all honesty? I’m glad Bruce made you stay home.”

“Will you still say that if he gets himself killed for being a stubborn ass?”

“Well, I’d be glad you didn’t get killed, too.”

“Bruce is still coddling me,” Dick complained. “I just… there’s a point where you have to find a balance between protecting others and protecting yourself. I don’t want Bruce getting hurt because he refuses to endanger us.”

“You swing between rooftops on a piece of metal string, babe. That seems pretty dangerous to me just on its own.”

“I’m a trapeze artist, Wally. I barely even need to think up there. And it’s not a  _string_. It’s a—”

“Missing the point, dude.”

“Maybe if there was a point to miss.” Dick slid off the bed and padded to the window in his socks. “Our little team isn’t going to work if Bruce keeps worrying about us too much. He needs to trust me and Jason to do our part and take care of ourselves.”

“Within reason.”

“Well, duh.” Dick parted the heavy curtain to peer outside. There wasn’t much to see out there, really, but it gave him something to do that didn’t involve pacing or hitting something. “Bruce has been okay about most things, but the Joker…”

“The Joker killed you and really messed him up,” Wally finished for him. “If you really feel sidelining you like this is uncalled for, then you’ll have to talk to him about it.”

Dick made a noise of disgust. “I’ll wait until nobody’s losing their shit over anything. Otherwise it’ll just dissolve into a shouting match or something… though that’s pretty much a possibility no matter when I do it.”

“The two of you will work it out. You always do.”

“See? I knew you were capable of saying something that’s  _actually comforting_.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, Dick. It’s late.”

“Bite me.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“That depends on how partial you are to your teeth.”

“Doesn’t matter if you can’t catch me,” Wally teased.

“Do you really want to test me on that?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good answer.”

* * *

Dick didn’t get much sleep that night, alternating between high-coloured nightmares and brief periods of panicked wakefulness.

The sun came back before Batman did. Dick was disinterestedly nibbling on some toast in the Batcave when Batmobile tore inside and screeched to a halt. Dick could smell the burning rubber from where he sat near the computer. Those tyres were going to need replacing soon.

“Did you find him?” Dick asked. Bruce threw off his cowl and stomped in the direction of the stairs, his upper lip curled into a snarl.

“No,” he spat, passing out of sight. Dick suddenly lost interest in his breakfast. His stomach was too busy tying itself in knots. Bruce was going to be insufferable until that clown was back where he belonged. Dick was self-aware enough to know he wouldn’t be any better. The house was going to choke on their combined angst. Wally’s hair would probably turn black the instant he stepped onto the grounds.

Dick tried to take comfort in the fact that the Joker was rarely capable of laying low for extended periods of time, unless he was planning something big. His need for his own sick brand of entertainment was far too great. They would likely hear from him soon, deal with him and put him back where he belonged.

It didn’t help as much as Dick would have liked.  Whatever the Joker did when he came out of hiding, it would likely include a body count. Enough people had died at that bastard’s hand.

Dick could feel the old anger surfacing again. If only he had been quicker, or Bruce’s aim had been worse, or Dick hadn’t felt the need to make a spectacle out of the whole thing. He could’ve easily killed the Joker quietly without involving Bruce at all. Nobody would have blamed him. Well, Bruce probably would have, but it was likely some of the Leaguers would have understood, maybe even sheltered him if he’d asked.

Dick shut all those thoughts down. He’d spent months in therapy trying to undo all this crap, and he wasn’t going to let the clown’s escape regress him like this.

He needed to get out of here. Get out of Gotham. Maybe Bruce would decide to get some rest after pulling an all-nighter and he could head to Mount Justice for a while.

Dick headed upstairs and deposited his half-eaten breakfast in the kitchen.

“Was it not to your liking, sir?” asked Alfred.

“It was fine,” Dick replied. “I just lost my appetite. Where’s Bruce?”

“I believe he went to bed.”

Dick couldn’t believe his luck for once. “In that case, I might go to Mount Justice for a while. I’m feeling a little… caged. Could you tell him when he wakes up?”

“Of course, sir. Do try to enjoy yourself.”

“We’ll see.” Dick swung by his room to pick up his sunglasses, though it was unlikely he would use them. He shot Wally a text as he headed back down to the Batcave to use the zeta tube.

The instant he materialised at his destination, the knotting in his stomach eased.

Most of the team was watching Black Canary spar with Conner. Canary still had the upper hand most of the time, but occasionally Conner would get lucky.

“What happened to training with Batman for the whole weekend?” Artemis asked as Dick slotted himself between her and M’gann. Wally, apparently, hadn’t arrived yet.

“Something came up,” Dick replied quietly. Black Canary flipped Conner over her head, slamming him into the ground.

“What kind of something?”

“The escaped criminal kind.”

M’gann tore her eyes away from the fight. “Who is it?”

“Joker.” Dick could feel his mouth twist on the name.

That caught Conner’s attention, though his distraction from the fight gave Canary an opening to floor him again. He sat up, practically snarling. “The Joker is  _free_?”

“For now.”

“Guess I better stick with Mum tonight,” Artemis muttered.

“Probably a good idea.”

_“Recognised: Kid Flash, B03.”_

Black Canary helped Conner up. “I think that’s enough for today.”

Wally zipped to Dick’s side. Artemis quickly side-stepped out of the way, muttering about his rudeness.

“I take it the Bruceman’s too busy to keep you under house arrest?”

“He was out all night looking for the Joker,” Dick replied. “I’m just glad he decided to go to bed instead of spending the day hyped up on coffee and pure rage. Kind of takes the fun out of training when the person training you spends the whole time glaring.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Ugh, more than I’d like.”

“I’ll have a word with him later,” said Black Canary.

“Don’t,” Dick advised. “He’ll probably eat you.”

“He can try.” Black Canary pressed the communicator in her ear. “Yes? I’ll be right there.”

“What is it?” asked M’gann.

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll see you all later.” Black Canary headed for the zeta tube and dematerialised.

“Are you all right?” Kaldur asked Dick. “I imagine this must be difficult for you.”

Dick shrugged. “I’ll cope. The Joker will surface eventually and Batman will be all over him like a bad rash.”

“Gross,” said Artemis.

“But accurate,” Wally added.

“The Team is here for you if that changes,” Kaldur said.                                                                  

“I know. Thank you.”

M’gann gave Dick a hug. “Talk to us if you need anything. Ever.”

That made Dick smile, as unlikely as he was to ever take her up on that. All the same, it helped him feel more… himself. It was hard to stay gloomy when surrounded by so much affection. Even Artemis and Conner seemed less prickly than usual, though there was a definite undercurrent of rage on his behalf. It was almost sweet, really.

“If you need anybody beaten up, I’m game,” Artemis said as M’gann moved away.

“That’s my job,” said Conner.

“You can help if you like, I guess.”

Dick snorted. “I think I’m good. Batman’s already taking care of that.”

“And one pissed-off caped avenger is more than enough,” added Wally.

“We don’t wear capes,” Artemis replied.

“Capes are overrated,” said Dick. “Ditched the thing as soon as I changed costumes.”

“You aren’t exactly known for your fine costuming decisions, Pixie Boots,” Wally teased. Dick punched his shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t even mention the—”

“Shorts, Wally. They were  _shorts_.”

“Shorts that looked a helluva lot like a pair of scaly green panties.”

“We’ve already had this conversation, Wally. I was  _nine_.”

“You wore  _what_?” said Conner.

“I remember seeing those in a newspaper photo years ago,” Artemis said, almost wistfully. “Didn’t you get cold?”

“I wore flesh-coloured tights when the temperature dropped,” Dick explained. “And I damn well rocked those shorts, didn’t I?”

“If you say so.”

“You’re all terrible friends.”

“I think we’d be even worse friends if we pretended wearing scaly green panties and pixie boots was a good idea,” Wally said seriously.

“I’m sure he looked adorable,” M’gann contributed.

“ _Thank you_.”

“I… have somewhere to be,” Kaldur said, making a quick exit.

“Oh, hey, Conner,” said M’gann. “You wanted me to help you with the Super Cycle today, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. Come on.” The pair headed off as well, while Dick and Artemis shared a knowing look.

“I don’t think it’s the Super Cycle he wants help with,” Artemis whispered suggestively.

“You do realise he has super-hearing, right?” Dick whispered back.

“Oh, I know.” Artemis threw him a smirk before heading off for the bedrooms. “I’m gonna wake up our little magician princess. She’s lucky Canary didn’t drag her out of bed hours ago.”

“So, what’d you want to do?” Wally asked Dick. “You were pretty stressed out last night.”

“I want to be outside,” Dick said, pulling Wally by the hand to an elevator that would eventually lead them to a terrace built into the side of the mountain.

The crisp mountain air, twinged with a hint of sea salt even at this altitude, washed over Dick as they stepped outside and onto the terrace. The sunlight was bright enough out here that he put on his sunglasses. Dick closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, his hands finding the railing with ease.

“I needed to get out of the manor,” he told Wally, who laid a hand over his. “My thoughts were getting… messed up.”

“Messed up how?”

“I was thinking that I should’ve just killed the Joker when I had the chance.” The warm metal of the railing was already slick with sweat from his palms. “Coming up with all these ‘what if’ scenarios… what if I’d done this, what if Bruce did that, what if I hadn’t involved him at all… that kind of thing. All it took was the Joker getting out like he always does and I’m back in that old way of thinking. I can’t… it’s not good for me. I thought all those months of therapy actually were doing something, but—”

“Hey,” Wally interrupted. “Don’t do that to yourself. The Joker brought all that on in the first place. It makes sense that you’d start thinking like that again.”

“I don’t want to be like this anymore,” Dick muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to get on with my life when I’m just one piece of bad news away from going back to square one?”

“You’re not back at square one,” Wally argued. “You haven’t gone out and tried to kill him this time, have you?”

“No, but I’m tempted.”

“But you’re not going to give into that,” Wally replied, kissing his cheek. “It’d be pretty silly of you to tell me this if you planned to kill him again, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess.” Dick shook off Wally’s hand, stepping back from the railing. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “There’s no way in hell I’m telling Bruce, though. He’ll freak out.”

“Probably, yeah.” Wally took Dick’s hands in his, bringing him closer. “Do you feel better here?”

“Loads better.”

“Then you should stay here until Batman has the Joker back where he belongs.”

“I’m not sure if Bruce will go for that.”

“Alfred’ll have your back,” Wally assured him. “He’ll pull Bruce’s head out of his ass one way or another if it comes to it. Come here.” He pulled the younger boy into an embrace. Dick felt much better than he had before. Wally had this whole ‘reassure his stressing boyfriend’ thing down to a fine art at this point.

“Thanks, Wally.”

“You’re very welcome, babe.”


	7. The Injustice League Strikes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy shows up with some intel pointing to the return of the Injustice League.

Batman searched every night, but to no avail. School holidays arrived before the damn clown even gave a hint as to his location. Dick avoided the manor as often as possible; he and Bruce were butting heads with even more frequency than usual.

Then, one day, they caught a break.

Dick had come out of therapy with Black Canary to find Roy in conversation with Batman and Kaldur.

Roy looked up. “Dick!”

“Is that my name or an insult?”

“Get over here.” Roy dragged him into a rather violent hug that cut off his air supply. Luckily, it was only brief. Roy held him out at arm’s length, looking him up and down with a frown. Roy didn’t look well. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved for a few days. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.

“Are you still looking for Speedy?” Dick asked him.

“Yes.” Roy glared over his shoulder at Batman and Kaldur. “Not that anybody is helping me anymore.”

“We have had this discussion,” Kaldur said calmly. “Were we to find leads, we would pursue them, but—”

“You haven’t found any, blah blah blah. I get it.” Roy headed back to the holocomputer, sorting through some text. “That’s not why I’m here. I turned up some intel I thought you guys might want to see.”

“Oh?” Dick joined him at the computer.

“The Injustice League is back,” Roy said. The words on the screen seemed to be a transcription of a conversation overheard by one of Roy’s sources. “I’m not sure who is involved, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the same crew as last time.”

“They’re operating well outside Gotham,” Dick observed as he skimmed the transcript. “If the Joker’s involved, that’d explain why you haven’t been able to track him down, Batman.”

“The League can handle this,” Batman said.

“If you believe that is best,” Kaldur said diplomatically before Dick could ask whether that decision was his fault.

Before any further discussion could be made, Batman pressed his communicator. “Yes? Spit it out, Clark.” He sighed. “I’ll be there.”

“What is it?” asked Dick.

“Something’s come up,” said Batman. “The League is needed elsewhere.”

“We can take care of this,” Dick assured him.

“You should—”

“I’m not staying behind. I’m the only experienced hacker the team has.”

Batman’s lenses narrowed. “Red Arrow, accompany the Team. Keep in contact. The League will back you up as soon as possible.” He headed for the zeta tube, about as close to stomping as his dignity would allow.

Kaldur sent a message to the whole team’s communicators. “This is Aqualad. We have a mission. Suit up and report to the main chamber ASAP.” He turned to Dick. “You too.”

“Yes, sir.” Dick gave him a silly salute and headed off in the direction of his quarters. He overheard a snippet of conversation before he was out of earshot.

“How’s he been?” Roy asked Kaldur.

“I believe Wally would be a better person to ask,” Kaldur replied.

“ _Wally_ , huh?” Roy’s voice brought to mind a vision of waggling eyebrows. Dick rolled his eyes and kept walking, trusting Kaldur to either chastise him for being suggestive or just ignore it completely. Either would be fine.

Dick changed into his costume quickly so he could take his time doing an inventory on his various gadgets and weapons, taking extra special care to take stock of anything that would help him escape should be end up captured again. Most of his equipment to that end was held in his utility belt, since there wasn’t really anywhere better, but he had a few lockpicks and other small bits and pieces sewn into the lining of his uniform. A knife was hidden in a secret compartment of each boot, in the event that a captivity situation arose where he was allowed to keep them.

Feeling for the little bumps in his uniform helped soothe his nerves. Dick restocked his smoke bombs, tested his wrist computer and packed up his equipment to head back out to the main chamber, his mask hanging in his hand. The rest of the team was already present.

“Finished powdering your nose?” Artemis teased.

“Perfection takes time.”

Wally gave Dick a wink when the team’s attention was diverted to Aqualad and Red Arrow, who had begun briefing everybody. Dick put on his mask and entered mission mode.

“Red Arrow has provided us with intelligence that suggests the Injustice League is back,” Aqualad said. “He has also found a likely base of operations. As the Justice League is otherwise occupied, we are to survey this area to discover their plans and, if absolutely necessary, stop them. Any questions?”

“Do we know who we’re up against?” Kid Flash asked.

“No,” Red Arrow replied, “but it’s a good bet the Joker will be there, since Batman hasn’t been able to find him in Gotham.”

“And Batman’s letting you come?” Kid Flash said to Nightwing.

“I pointed out my hacking expertise might come in handy,” Nightwing replied. “He didn’t have time to argue.”

“We leave in the bioship in fifteen minutes,” Aqualad said. “Complete any final preparations and meet there.”

Kid Flash grabbed Nightwing’s arm. “We need to talk. Like, now.”

“My room,” Nightwing said. “I should stock some extra antidotes for, well, everything.” He dragged Kid Flash there. The instant the door closed, they morphed back into Dick and Wally, boyfriends rather than teammates.

Dick pulled out a box of pills sorted into labelled compartments. Joker toxin would be particularly important to have an antidote for, as well as Poison Ivy’s various concoctions… and maybe some fear gas antidote just to be safe.

“Are you sure about this?” Wally asked.

“Voice down, dude. Kryptonian in the house, remember?”

Wally lowered his voice. “Look, the fallout was bad enough when the Joker escaped. What if we run into him? Will you be able to handle that?”

“I’ve always been able to handle the fighting, Wally. I don’t start freaking out until the danger has passed.” Dick dropped a few Joker toxin antidote pills into a sachet, which he then labelled and placed in his utility belt. “Besides, I’ve kicked his ass before. I can do it again.”

“Can you?”

Two simple words, but they wriggled under Dick’s skin. “Are you suggesting I’ll freeze up in the middle of a fight? Because that’s never happened. There’s no reason to start now.” A fear toxin antidote sachet went into his belt. “Besides, I know you guys have my back. I’ll be lucky if I even get a hit in between the lot of you.”

“Maybe you should tell the team about your, uh…” Wally lowered his voice again. “…diagnosis. Just so everyone knows what’s up.”

“I guess you’ve got a point.” Dick finished stocking his belt. “But  _only_  that. I’m not getting into any other crap. I need them to trust me.”

“It’s bound to come up eventually.”

“But not today. Come on.” Dick picked up his mask, but Wally sped to his side and planted a kiss on his cheek before he could put it on. Dick tugged him closer by the shoulders and captured his lips in a proper kiss. Wally’s hands snaked around his waist and drew him close enough that their bodies pressed together.

Dick pulled away with a loud smacking of lips that made them both laugh. Dick rested his head on Wally’s shoulder. Okay, maybe he was a bit more anxious about this mission than he was letting on. Maybe letting Wally hold him made him feel better. Maybe he didn’t care if Wally saw right through him. Wally always had.

“I love you,” Wally whispered. He didn’t say it often, since he knew Dick wasn’t ready to reciprocate. Dick’s head wasn’t in the right place, and he honestly couldn’t foresee a time when it would be. Dick hated that. It made him feel selfish that Wally could be so open with his affection, but he couldn’t squeeze out a handful of one-syllable words.

“I—” The rest of the words caught in his throat. Damn it.

Wally ran his fingers through Dick’s hair. “It’s okay.” Dick tried not to hear the disappointment in his voice.

* * *

After everybody was settled in the bioship, the team lapsed into a silence so heavy that it seemed to press in on Dick’s eardrums and swallow his words before they even left his mouth. He had to get this out. He had to.

“I need to tell you guys something,” he finally choked out. The silence pressed harder until the air itself felt like treacle in his lungs.

“What is it?” Kaldur asked once it became apparent he wasn’t going to continue without prompting.

“I have a condition called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Dick replied. It was somehow easier to get the words out when somebody was asking for them. “Basically, all the crap I went through messed with my head, so now I’m a little… uh… unstable. Just thought you should know. It won’t affect my performance on the mission.”

“What makes you so sure?” asked Conner.

“I’ve been dealing with this for a while,” Dick explained. “I’ve always been solid under fire. As much as I’ve become more prone to nightmares and flashbacks and panic attacks and all that fun stuff, they’ve only ever happened in relatively safe environments. Like, if I’m confronted with something that my brain has decided should set me off while I’m on the job, I won’t be any fun to deal with but I’m also not going to completely blue-screen then and there.”

“Blue-screen,” Wally groaned. Dick kicked his seat.

“Anyway, yeah. Black Canary and Batman cleared me for field work, so there really isn’t anything to worry about.”

“I will trust their judgement for now,” said Kaldur. “Perhaps it would be prudent to discuss your condition at a later date so we can learn how best to help you.”

“I’ve got that covered right now, but thank you.”

“I can monitor Nightwing’s condition through the neural link if that makes anybody feel better,” M’gann offered.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Dick replied. “That won’t divide your attention too much, will it?”

“I can handle it,” she assured him. “I’ve been doing it on and off since you let me pick through your memories, actually. I know I should’ve asked first but—”

“It’s okay, M’gann.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Dick mightn’t have been as forgiving if he’d found this out a few days ago, when he was still freaking out over the Joker’s escape from Arkham. He’d mellowed a little since then; getting away from the anger feedback loop he and Bruce had accidentally created had done wonders for his mood. Wally deserved some credit as well.

“You… are surprisingly calm right now,” Wally commented. “About everything.”

“I just want this over with,” Dick replied. “Worrying about what the Joker’s doing all the time is getting old.” He figured the best way to put the team at ease was to be open with how he was feeling for the moment. He knew he sometimes had a habit of clamming up around the team when he wasn’t feeling great. There was no way that would go unnoticed now that they were going to be scrutinising his behaviour more closely.

“Hopefully we won’t have to after this mission,” said Zatanna.

“Should we encounter the Joker, it would be prudent to have a plan,” Kaldur said to the team in general.

“Keep Nightwing and Robin the hell away from him?” Wally suggested.

“That would be pointless,” Dick replied. “The Joker’s an illogical madman, but if Jay and I are there, it won’t be too hard to predict where he’s going to focus his energy. Without getting into details, I’m the one that put him in Arkham’s hospital in the first place, and he has killed me before. I think it’s safe to assume he’ll come after me based on those factors alone. Failing that, he’ll go for Jay because he’s a Robin like I was. We’re also both connected to Batman. I don’t think I need to elaborate on that point.”

“That’s what I was getting at.”

“And it’s exactly why trying to keep us away from him won’t work,” Dick argued. “Unless you’re planning to leave us in the bioship, and God help you if you need something hacked or a lock picked without alerting every hostile within a five-mile radius.”

Wally threw his hands up. “Fine!”

“Somebody’s touchy.” So he dug the knife in a bit. Sue him.

“Any other ideas?” Kaldur prompted.

“It’s worth establishing that nobody should go anywhere near the Joker alone,” said Dick. “You wouldn’t think it needs to be said, but I was that dumbass a few years back and got a little bit dead for my trouble.” Artemis and Jason snorted while the rest of the team looked a little bit torn about how to react. “You’re allowed to laugh when I joke about dying, just FYI.”

“Noted,” Zatanna commented. “Got any other clever tips?”

“Baby animals make the world a better place.”

“Richard, Zatanna, please,” said Kaldur. “We must focus on the task at hand.”

* * *

Miss Martian landed the bioship in a clearing surrounded by forest a mile away from the facility they were investigating.

Aqualad tapped his communicator. “Aqualad to Batman. We have arrived at the drop zone and are about to proceed on foot. We will provide updates when possible. Aqualad out.” He turned to the team. “Remember, we are here for reconnaissance first. Do  _not_  engage unless necessary.” He gave everyone a hard look that wouldn’t have been out of place on Batman’s face. “Is that clear?”

There were general murmurs of assent among the team. Aqualad could be a pretty imposing guy when he wanted to be, especially now that he’d put on some extra height and muscle over the two years leading up to Nightwing’s return. Luckily for the team, Aqualad usually directed it toward his enemies.

After establishing the psychic link, the team approached the site in small squads. Nightwing ended up with Miss Martian and Artemis. He could see Robin’s group to his left; he was accompanied by Aqualad and Red Arrow. Superboy, Zatanna, Rocket and Kid Flash made up the group to his right, but the foliage was too thick to see them.

Nightwing climbed a tree near the forest’s edge and dug out his binoculars. The facility was a dark block of a building, surrounded by chain link fence topped with barbed wire. He couldn’t be sure if it was electrified from this distance.

**“I hear buzzing,”**  said Superboy.  **“I think that’s an electric fence.”**

Once mystery solved. Nightwing lifted the binoculars to his mask lenses. Batman was working on updating the lenses to allow magnification, but he hadn’t managed to make the tech small enough to fit into a domino mask yet, so the Robins still had to rely on binoculars. With Batman busy going after the Joker, Nightwing had taken up the task but hadn’t been any more successful. Yet. He refused to admit defeat.

Nightwing surveyed the situation. He spotted a power station of sorts on the other side of the fence. If he found a well-concealed spot, he could cut through the fence to make a hole big enough to crawl through. It would probably be quicker to deactivate the fence from there, rather than forcing everybody to crawl through a small hole in single file and risk getting electrocuted.

Finding a concealed part of the fence wasn’t the only problem. There were at least a hundred yards of empty space between him and the fence. Anybody on this side of the building would see him if they just looked out the window while he was crossing the gap. Quite frankly, it’d be quicker and safer to just send M’gann over to deactivate the fence while the rest of the team looked for an inconspicuous entry point.

**“I think I found where we can turn off the electricity,”**  he said.  **“It’d be safer to send M’gann over to deal with that while we try to find an entry point that won’t alert anybody who looks out a window.”**

**“Agreed,”**  said Aqualad.  **“Miss Martian, deactivate the fence for us.”**

Nightwing pointed her in the right direction, and off she went.

**“Kid Flash, join beta squad,”** Aqualad ordered. That was Nightwing’s group. Aqualad’s was alpha, and the one Kid Flash was leaving was omega.

Kid Flash slipped through the foliage that had kept his group hidden from beta.  **“Done.”**

Aqualad continued handing out orders. **“Omega squad, head northeast from your position and try to find us an entry point. My team will circle around to the other side of the compound and do the same there. Beta, head northwest.”**

The team split to follow their orders.

“Say we do run into the Joker,” Kid Flash whispered, matching Nightwing’s pace. “How should we handle that?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Nightwing replied. “If you’re looking for tactical advice, put him down hard before he gets his hands on anything, then knock him out and tie him up to be safe. Maybe break a few bones to keep him off the streets for a while. He’s probably still healing from the last time he crossed me.”

“Last time?” repeated Artemis.

“Long story.” Nightwing peered past a tree to survey the situation. It was no better than before. They kept walking, but there was no change in the environment.

“You know that wasn’t what I asked,” said Kid Flash.

“Then spit it out and stop expecting me to read your mind,” Nightwing snapped.

“Should I leave you lovebirds alone?” Artemis cut in.

**“Team, rendezvous at my location,”** said Aqualad.  **“I believe we have found our entrance.”**

The squad picked up their pace, retreating into the forest a little to better avoid detection.

“Look, I know you think it’s a dumb idea to keep you away from the guy,” Kid Flash said, “but I don’t like going into it without having some idea of what to do if he comes at you.”

Nightwing shrugged. “That depends.”

“On?”

“On whether you should be doing something else. Don’t just drop everything to come to my rescue unless I obviously need immediate assistance. Trust me to hold my own.”

“I do trust you,” Kid Flash replied. “Him? Not so much.”

“I’d be very concerned if you did trust him, KF.”

“Don’t be a dick, Dick.”

“Don’t use my real name in the field or so help me,  _Wally_ , I will shove my escrima right up your—”

“Oh, just kiss already!” Artemis interrupted.

**“We can hear you arguing,”**  Aqualad said over the mind link.  **“Omega squad is already here. Please turn your attention to the task at hand.”**

They arrived at the rendezvous point shortly thereafter. Nightwing peered out through the trees. The clearing was still as exposed as ever, but alpha squad had managed to find a part of the compound that didn’t have windows. There was a single door—Nightwing grabbed his binoculars again—which was accompanied by a keypad. Passcode-protected, then. Piece of cake.

**“The electric fence is off,”**  said Miss Martian, decloaking beside Superboy.

**“Good work. Zatanna, can you quietly make us a hole once we reach the fence?”**

**“No problem, Aqualad.”**

**“Nightwing, I take it that keypad will give you no trouble?”**

**“Do they ever?”**

Aqualad broke from his serious demeanour for a moment to give him a smile.  **“No, they do not. Let’s go. Squad formation. Omega first, then beta, then alpha.”**

The team dashed across the clearing a squad at the time. Beta squad was about halfway across the clearing when Zatanna worked her spell, which parted a section of the fence enough to allow a few people through at a time.

**“Miss Martian,”** said Aqualad, skidding to a stop beside Zatanna,  **“cloak and provide surveillance while Nightwing hacks. Alert us if anybody approaches. Superboy, listen for the same.”**

Nightwing dragged Robin over to the keypad. He had to hold in a snort as he examined it. It was WayneTech. Fairly secure, but there was an administrative code only known to Bruce (and, by extension, his kids) for easy entry into suspect facilities. He punched in the code. The thin strip of screen flashed green.

**“We’re in.”**

**“Already?”** said Kid Flash.

**“It’s WayneTech.”**

**“Well, that’s handy.”**

**“Remember: we are here primarily for reconnaissance,”**  Aqualad said, reaching for the door handle.  **“Avoid confrontation if possible. Superboy, any infrared signatures?”**

**“Yeah, two. They’re in another room.”**

**“All right. No contact outside of the psychic link. I already updated Batman while waiting for beta squad to arrive.”**  He slowly opened the door, wincing as the hinges creaked. Nightwing used a small tube of lubricant to remedy the situation. They continued inside.

The room looked… odd. Metal sheets covered the walls, though the floor was wood. Superboy, as the last inside, shut the door. As soon as it clicked into place, another sheet of metal rolled up from beneath the floor to cover it. Superboy tried to grab it and stop its progress, but it rose too quickly for him to catch.

**“Well, I guess we’re not getting out that way without a lot of time and noise,”**  Nightwing commented.

The nearest inside door swung open. “Ooh, guests!” That familiar voice smacked Nightwing in the stomach. “It’s about time!” His blood was ice. “Well, come in already. Kids these days have no manners.”

What choice did they have? The team crowded around Nightwing and Robin as if they could shield them with their bodies, and proceeded through the door. Nightwing took in several deep breaths. He was  _not_  going to faint and humiliate himself in front of everybody. Wally squeezed his forearm briefly.

The Joker had seated himself in a threadbare armchair at the head of the room. Dramatic bastard. Poison Ivy was standing near him.

**“Great recon mission, guys,”** Red Arrow said sarcastically.

**“Hey, it was your intel that got us in this situation,”** Robin shot back. Fortunately, the Joker started to talk before Red Arrow could fire back a response.

“Remind me to give my good ol’ wizard pals a hug for keeping the League busy,” he said. “Oh, wait. You won’t be able to, because you’ll all be dead!” And then he started laughing. Of course.

Nightwing so wasn’t in the mood for this bullshit. “I see your sense of humour hasn’t improved since the last time you tried keeping kids as a captive audience.”

“Oh, hush. Ivy?”

Vines and roots burst from the floor, wrapping around every member of the team. Nightwing managed to dodge the first few roots that whipped his way and Superboy tore a few to shreds before they, like everybody else, were overwhelmed. Ivy had taken special care to use one of her vines to gag Zatanna so she couldn’t get them out.

The Joker stepped up to Nightwing, grinning madly as the teen gave up on struggling. “You’re much less fun now that you’ve hung up the Red Hood, kid.”

“What?” Artemis choked; one of ivy’s vines was slowly tightening around her throat.

“Ooh, didn’t your friends know that?”

Nightwing rolled his eyes, taking care to move his head so that the Joker knew what he was doing. “Thanks. Really appreciate that.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet. What if some of your little friends don’t know who the Red Hood is? Would you like to explain, or should I?”

“Haven’t you got better things to do?” Kid Flash snapped.

“Well,  _some_ body’s eager for death, aren’t you?” The Joker giggled. “But if you insist, I’ll give you the short version. This little birdie got all offended that I put him in a wooden box, so he came back, stole my old identity and tried to kill me! Of course, Batman stopped him, but not before this a _dor_ able little psychopath cut a bloody path through Gotham City to get to me. I must admit, it was a little flattering.  _Rude_ , but flattering.”

“Does this really matter, Joker?” said Ivy. “We’re going to kill them all anyway.”

“Oh, psh. Are you always this boring?”

“Is what he’s saying true?” asked Superboy.

“If we get out of this alive, I’ll explain everything,” Nightwing replied. “Right now, however, maybe we should concentrate on not dying. That okay with you?” So he got a little testy. It wasn’t like he didn’t have an excuse.

“If you’d like to explain now, that’s okay with me,” said the Joker. “You won’t have a chance later.”

“Oh, go to hell.”

“I won’t, but they will.” The Joker turned to Poison Ivy. “Drop them. Leave Nightwing. We have a little… catching up to do.”

“My pleasure.” The vines dragged the rest of the team down back through the floor. A metal door slid into place, cutting off their screams. Ivy dropped Nightwing on the floor. He landed on his feet.

“Now, the fun begins.” The Joker cracked his knuckles. “Come on, kid. Have at me.”

“I’ve beaten you before,” said Nightwing. “I can do it again.”

“Ooh, so confident.  _Show me_.”

Nightwing lowered himself into a fighting stance. He didn’t bother with his escrima; Ivy would surely take them off him in seconds anyway.

The Joker cackled when Nightwing didn’t immediately come at him. “Aw, don’t be shy.”

“As you wish,” Nightwing ground out through his teeth, secretively using a finger to activate an emergency beacon that sat in the palm of his glove. At least Batman would know something was up, even if he was still too busy or far away to be of immediate assistance.

He edged forward, ducking when the Joker got sick of waiting and threw a punch. He hit back, connecting with the Joker’s nose. Blood trickled down his face, a little stream rolling into his mouth. The Joker licked his lips.

“That one was for free, kid. You’ve got a lot of pent-up rage in there, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.” Nightwing caught the Joker’s fist and twisted, feeling a savage rush of pleasure when he heard a crack. Between him and Ivy, it wasn’t really a good idea to stick around. They’d wear him down eventually, or trip him up, and that’d be it. He needed to escape and find a way to either contact the League or free the team himself. Or both.

The Joker’s next punch caught Nightwing in the gut, forcing him to stagger back a few paces and suck in a breath. He dodged a volley of acid from the flower on the Joker’s lapel. So far, Ivy was just watching, but he couldn’t rely on her staying on the sidelines. She would likely get sick of watching the Joker play with his food, so to speak, and end it herself.

Nightwing’s boot landed in the Joker’s gut, and he took the moment the clown needed to gather himself to quickly survey the room. The only door on floor level led back to the room with the metal-covered door. No dice. There was a platform that held another door. If he could get a big enough break in the fight, he could use his grapple gun to get up there.

An enormous root broke through the floor and would have tossed Nightwing aside, had he not cartwheeled out of the way in time.

“Get it over with, Joker,” said Ivy. “Or I’ll finish this myself.”

“Where’s Harley when you need her,” the Joker grumbled. “ _She_  wouldn’t complain.”

“Then you should’ve taken her with you when you escaped,” Ivy snapped. “Asshole.”

“That’s not very nice!” The Joker turned away to continue arguing with Ivy, and Nightwing saw his chance. He whipped out the grapple and shot a line to the platform. Unfortunately, that earned Ivy’s attention. He swung away from the first vine that came his way, but the second grabbed his right leg and pulled  _hard_. Nightwing had to let go of his line, crashing back to the floor, landing on that leg. A sharp pain tore through his ankle, and his leg crumpled. He landed on his side, crying out as his shoulder took the brunt of the landing.

Nightwing let out a stream of curses, in several different languages, as he slowly sat upright. The Joker made a look of mock concern as he strolled over; he had a crowbar now.  _Shit_.

“That looked painful,” he said. “You okay, birdie?”

Nightwing let out a noise that could most accurately be described as a growl, trying to scramble to his feet. The Joker smacked the crowbar at his chest, forcing him onto his back. The concern melted off the Joker’s face and his grin stretched wider than ever.

“All right, now you get some rest. We’ve got a lot of fun ahead of us.”

He swung the crowbar again. Nightwing was vaguely aware of a pain in the side of his head, before he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, I'm a jerk. It suits me.


	8. Not This Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker performs bad puns and torture while the team rushes to rescue Nightwing before it's too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there's a torture scene in this chapter.

The team crashed to the floor inside a metal prison. The trapdoor above them slid shut, leaving them in darkness.

“Bro fo thgil evoba ym daeh,” said Zatanna, and a pale orb of light appeared above her head as she clambered to her feet, as did Kid Flash.

“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Now.”

“Superboy, can you hear what’s happening above us?” asked Aqualad.

“Nightwing and Joker are talking,” said Superboy. “The Joker’s egging him on.”

“Can you keep listening while you punch us a way out?”

“Yeah. I can do that.” Superboy felt along the metal walls, squinting in the way that Kid Flash assumed meant he was using his infrared vision to check for people. He found a spot he liked and punched it. The metal caved a little, but not much.

“That’s going to take too long,” Kid Flash complained. “We don’t have this kind of time.”

“He’s got a point,” Superboy grunted, working up a rhythm of punches against the wall. “They’ve just started fighting up there. Nightwing’s getting a few hits in, but so’s the Joker. I think Ivy’s just watching.”

“You used ice to weaken the wall while you were in Belle Reve, didn’t you?” asked Zatanna.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Stand back.” Zatanna regarded the wall for a moment with narrowed eyes. She stretched out a hand. “Toac siht llaw htiw eci.” A sheet of ice covered the wall. Superboy started punching again.

“Ivy’s joined the fight,” he said.

“Damn it,” Kid Flash muttered.

“Nightwing’s holding his own for now.” His rhythm faltered. “Wait, no.”

“What?”

“He shot a grapple line, but one of Ivy’s plants must’ve grabbed him. He’s down.” Superboy started punching faster, and harder. “I don’t think he can get up.”

Zatanna raised her hands to face the wall again. “I’ll give you more ice, Superboy. Stand back. Toac siht llaw htiw eci. Go.”

Superboy’s teeth were clenched in concentration as he hit the icy wall as hard as he could. “I think he just got knocked out.” With a roar, he threw a punch that sent his fist right through the metal, and the wood underneath. Not wasting any time, he grabbed the edges of the hole he had made and began to tear out chunks of metal and wall until the hole was big enough to climb through.

“We need to get back up there,” Kid Flash said as Superboy climbed through the hole.

“No point. They’ve already taken him.” Superboy turned around to help him through.

“Where?”

Superboy tilted his head, wincing. “I don’t know. There’s a noise interfering with my hearing out here.”

“We’ll deal with that first,” said Aqualad, helping Robin climb through the hole. “Robin, can your computer track Nightwing?”

Robin booted up his wrist computer. “He’s got multiple trackers in different parts of his costume. A few of them aren’t moving, so I think the Joker’s tossed his utility belt, gloves and a boot.”

“Do you have something to track?”

“Yeah.” He swore. “One of the trackers that’s still moving has gone dark.”

“Robin, take the team and follow the trackers he has left. Superboy, you and I find that interference and shut it off.”

* * *

Nightwing came to in a shed. His ankle and head both throbbed with pain. One of the lenses on his mask was cracked and his vision swam as he tried to get his bearings. Concrete floor, horizontal wood slat walls… he couldn’t get a good look at the door without turning his head. His right boot, the one holding his probably broken ankle, was still on but his other boot, gloves and utility belt were all gone. He closed his eyes. The longer the Joker thought he was unconscious, the more of a chance the team had of finding him alive. He hoped.

Unfortunately, the Joker had already noticed. “Ah, finally awake, are we?  _Good_.”

Nightwing managed to get his bound hands under him well enough to push himself into a sitting position. “You do realise I have a bunch of superpowered friends out there who’d love to tear you apart with their bare hands, don’t you?”

“I think they’ll be too busy to help you, kid.” The Joker laughed, even though nothing was especially funny.

“What have you done to them?”

“Nothing. Yet.” The Joker lowered himself into a crouch, using the crowbar to help him balance. “They’ll find you eventually. Well, your burnt and lifeless corpse anyway.”  _Please let this be the start of a monologue_ , Nightwing thought. “Maybe I’ll even let them contact Batman. Or I could do it myself, I suppose. Haven’t worked out the details yet. Planning every teensy little detail in advance takes the fun out of things, don’t you think?”

“Plans coming to fruition can be their own reward,” Nightwing replied, hoping to keep the Joker talking for as long as possible.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? HA!” The Joker used the crowbar to push himself to his feet again. “You nearly did kill me, too. Shame you had to get the Bat involved, though I can definitely understand why. I’d do the same. Guess we’re more alike than you thought, eh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, you and your little bat family. Always in denial. I thought I’d gotten through to you with all that Red Hood revenge business. You really seemed to cut loose. I was so proud.”

“Anything I do that warrants your approval is the exact opposite of what I should be doing.”

“Ouch!” The Joker clutched his chest. “You wound me, little bird. For that, I think a little punishment is in order.”

With his hands tied and his ankle likely broken, there was nothing Nightwing could do to stop it. He braced for the impact as the crowbar slammed into his midsection, knocking him onto his back. He exhaled. His suit had provided some protection, far more than his Robin costume had, but it still hurt like hell.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” The Joker tossed the crowbar aside for the moment. “I left your boot on.” The Joker’s voice pitched lower in dark anticipation. “Better take that off.”

Nightwing did what he could to keep the damaged joint loose, but his control was limited. Sharp agony shot up his leg as the Joker tugged at the boot, eventually ripping it off. Nightwing cried out before he could stop himself.

“Ooh, that ankle looks nasty.” The Joker reached into the boot and pulled out the small, round tracking device. “Can’t have anybody finding us yet, can we?”

The Joker opened the door and threw the tracker. Nightwing managed to sit up, but he didn’t have the strength to stand quickly enough make it out the door before the Joker slammed it shut and locked it. The lock was a fairly standard one set into the doorknob. If Nightwing could just withstand the Joker’s beatings until he left him to die in the planned explosion—he spied a table piled with bombs out of the corner of his eye—then maybe he could survive this. It was his only choice.

Watching the Joker stride over to pick up the crowbar again, Nightwing tried to reach out to M’gann. The psychic connection had broken when he got knocked out. He couldn’t find her, and the attempt made his head throb harder than ever. He’d just have to get out of this himself. Somehow. He still had the lockpicks sewn into the lining of his costume. Given enough time, he could crawl over and pick the lock on the door. He wasn’t sure how far he’d get before the explosion went off, but hopefully it would be far enough that it wouldn’t kill him instantly.

Planning helped him feel calmer, even as the Joker cackled and raised the crowbar again. He would survive this. He’d died once, come back wrong and turned into a mass murderer. He’d let the Joker win once. He would never let it happen again.  _Never again_  became is mantra as the Joker beat him again and again and again.

The Joker took a break, wiping sweat off his brow. “Well, I don’t know about you, but this doesn’t seem nearly as fun the second time around.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nightwing groaned.

“Hm, maybe it’s the costume.” The Joker poked the blue symbol on Nightwing’s chest. “Seems thicker than your old one, doesn’t it? I’m sure we’d have more fun with it out of the way.”

Nightwing was going to throw up. He edged away from the Joker, who dragged him back by the arm.

“You really are shy today, aren’t you?” The Joker fumbled around, looking for a way to unzip the costume, ignoring Nightwing’s struggles. He was so close that Nightwing could smell his foul breath. There was bile climbing up Nightwing’s throat. He couldn’t breathe.

The Joker finally found the zip but, when he tried to pull it down, there was a zapping sound and he jerked away with a yelp. Nightwing had forgotten about the suit security measures in his panic. Stupid. He needed to calm down. He had nothing but his wits and a few lockpicks to keep him alive and he couldn’t afford to lose either.

“Well, then.” The Joker shook out his hands. “I guess I’ll just have to hit you harder, won’t I, pumpkin?”

He swung the crowbar backwards, working up momentum, and slammed it against Nightwing’s torso. Nightwing bit down on his tongue as something cracked inside him, blood pooling into his mouth. The Joker struck again, and again—and again and again and again and again and—he stopped.

“Woo. This is a real workout. So hard to find good gym buddies these days.”

Nightwing spat blood onto the floor. Breathing made the liquid in his throat rattle. He coughed up another mouthful.

“Wow, kid, you look  _beat_.” The Joker laughed at his own pun. “Maybe you should take a  _break_.” He slammed the crowbar into Nightwing’s ribs again, making at least one shatter. Nightwing couldn’t take in enough breath to scream. “Ooh, that’s the stuff. Want another?” He didn’t bother waiting for a response before bringing the crowbar down again.

Nightwing rolled onto his side and vomited on the floor, every inch of his body screaming in protest.

“Is this how you behave at home?” the Joker scolded, nudging him away from the puddle of sick with his foot. “Spilling bodily fluids all over the floor like the world’s your own personal lavatory. Well, I’m sick of it, I tell ya! Sick!” The crowbar came down on Nightwing’s bad ankle. He couldn’t scream, so a grunt came out instead. “I’ve had enough of your bad behaviour, young man. You’re grounded. Lie there and think about what you’ve done.” The Joker grabbed Nightwing’s discarded boot. “I’m off to tell your father about this. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see I disciplined you appropriately.”

Nightwing watched him leave, slowly gathering his strength. He wasn’t sure he had enough to sit up, let alone crawl all the way to the door.

No choice. Nightwing rolled onto his stomach, retching from the pain, and twisted until he got his bound hands in front of him, silently blessing his natural flexibility. From there, he shuffled on his stomach to the door, using his forearms as leverage against the floor. He chanced a glance back at the bomb, which told him he had a minute before Armageddon.

He tore a lockpick from the inside of his high neckline and got to work on the lock. He dropped the pick a few times because his hands were shaking, but finally got the door unlocked. He shoved it open and crawled out as quickly as he could. He had seconds to spare.

The force of the explosion rang in his ears and he was airborne for a moment. He saw the ground approach, then no more.

* * *

Kid Flash swore up a storm when Robin lost the last tracking signal. They’d only managed to find their way outside of the facility a few minutes ago, and his nerves were stretched thin already.

“Shouldn’t he have a tracker in his uniform?!”

“I think the Joker must’ve known it was there and deactivated it somehow,” Robin replied, fiddling with his wrist computer. “I’ve got his last known location, but beyond that we’re screwed.”

“M’gann, can’t you find him?”

“I’m trying,” Miss Martian replied. “His thoughts are too fuzzy. He must’ve gotten hit really hard on the head. Robin’s lead is the best one we have right now.”

 **“We lost his signal,”**  Kid Flash said over the mind link.  **“We’ve got his last known location, but we might need Supey’s help on this one.”**

 **“We have located the source of the interference,”**  replied Aqualad.  **“We will meet you soon.”**

They were about halfway there when a plume of smoke rolled high into the air, followed by an echoing  _pop_ , like a distant explosion. Kid Flash’s stomach clenched with dread.

“Oh. Oh  _no._ ” He sped towards the smoke and sound, ignoring the team calling him back. He was at the site in moments, staring wide-eyed at the smoking wreckage of a wooden shed. “Nightwing? NIGHTWING?!”

A groan came from a ditch nearby. Kid Flash peered inside to find Nightwing lying in a murky puddle, stripped of everything but his battered uniform and the remains of his broken mask. He stirred weakly, groaning again. Kid Flash hurried to his side.

“Hang on, babe. I’ll get you out.” Kid Flash grabbed him under the armpits and slowly dragged him out of the ditch, cradling his head in his arm.  **“I’ve found Nightwing, guys. Call the League and have them track my location. He needs medical attention _now_.”**

Nightwing’s mask lenses were shattered. He opened glassy eyes, blinking up at Kid Flash. “Wally?” he rasped.

“Hey. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Nightwing shook his head minutely, wincing as he did so. “I’m not…” He hacked up a mouthful of blood, spitting it onto the ground. “Not gonna make it.”

“Hang in there, okay? Help’s coming. Just  _hang on_.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can  _god damn it_. Don’t you dare die on me again.”

God, he looked terrible. His costume was torn up and covered in blood, which also trickled from a wound somewhere in his hair. His face was scratched up and already purpling in places. Every breath he took in rattled. There was blood on his lips. It just… the stuff was  _everywhere_. One of his hands gripped the front of Kid Flash’s costume, trembling uncontrollably.

“Wally, I’m s—”

“Don’t you dare apologise to me.”

“Wally,  _listen._  Please.” It was impossible for Wally to think of him as Nightwing when those blue eyes were looking at him like that. And, by extension, he couldn’t think of himself as Kid Flash. Not when he was holding his boyfriend, who may very well be mortally wounded. The thought that this might be the last time he’d get to hold him pushed at Wally’s mind, until he shoved it away. Dick wasn’t going to die. He refused to let that happen.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I  _am_ sorry.” Dick took in a rattling breath. “I could never tell you how much I—” He stopped to cough again, spitting more blood into the dirt.

“It’s okay, Dick. I know.”

“No. I need to tell you.” More coughing. “I… love you, Wally. I love you. I do. I can’t just—” He coughed for a long time, during which Aqualad received an ETA on the League’s arrival, which he relayed to Wally.

 **“The League will be here in ten minutes,”**  he said.  **“What is Nightwing’s condition?”**

**“Bad. Could be fatal. He’s conscious and talking, but it’s hard on him. He’s coughing up a lot of blood.”**

**“We’ll be there as soon as possible.”**

Dick finally stopped, clearing his throat with a wince. “I can’t just die without telling you.”

“I knew, babe. I love you too. Please,  _please_ , save your strength. The League will be here in ten minutes.”

“Huh. Not sure I can—” With the amount of coughing he was doing, Dick’s throat must have felt like razorblades by now.

“All I’m asking is that you stay awake, okay?” Wally said when Dick’s coughing quieted enough. “Can you do that for me?”

“I… don’t… know,” Dick said between coughs. Wally wiped the leftover blood from his lips with the thumb of his glove.

“Come on, you can’t just drop the L-word on me and then die,” he half-teased. “That’s just mean.”

Dick weakly smacked his chest. It struck Wally that it was probably the hardest he could hit right now. Wally laced the fingers of his free hand with Dick’s.

“This is…” Dick cleared his throat, “…better than last time.”

“Why’s that?”

Dick’s voice thickened. “I’m not alone.”

“That’s right. I’m here, and I’m going to get you through this. How’d you get out?”

“Picked the lock. Didn’t get far after that.”

“Far enough that you’ve got a fighting chance.”

Dick laughed wetly, dissolving into another coughing fit. “ _Right_.”

“Yeah, I am right.” Wally squeezed his hand; even through the glove, he could tell it was cold. “You cold, babe?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you handle being moved again?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll do what I can to warm you from here, I guess.” He pulled Dick a little closer, but stopped when Dick’s face scrunched up in pain. There wasn’t much he could do. Dick curled into him a little, shivering.

“Tired.”

“Eyes open, babe.”

Dick groaned at him, forcing his eyes open again. It looked exhausting.

“Come on, you’re doing well.”

“I’m  _dying_ , Wally.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Insufferable,” Dick muttered, but the banter seemed to perk him up a little.

“Hey, we’ve got years ahead of us yet. I refuse to let your first love confession be on your deathbed.”

“You’re really…” Dick coughed some more blood onto the ground. “You’re really hung up on that.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Then could you…”

“Yeah?”

“…kiss me?” Dick looked younger than he had in a long time, eyes suddenly wide and vulnerable. He rarely got like that, and it always scared the hell out of Wally when he did.

Wally wiped more blood off Dick’s lips. “Are you up to that?”

“Please?”

Wally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against Dick’s. Dick deepened the kiss as much as he could in his weakened state. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant kiss—it tasted strongly of iron—but Wally didn’t care. Dick broke away to cough.

 **“Is this a bad time?”**  said Artemis. Wally tore his eyes away from Dick to find the whole team standing a few feet away.

“Uh, hey everyone.” He remembered Dick wasn’t hooked up to the psychic link anymore, so he spoke aloud for his benefit. Dick tried lifting his head to see, but gave up after a few seconds.

“Batman is on the comm,” said Aqualad. “He wants an update.”

Wally tapped his communicator. “This is Kid Flash.”

“Report,” Batman growled.

“Not so great,” Wally replied. “He’s still conscious, but he’s tired and cold. Lost quite a bit of blood. Keeps coughing it up. He’ll need surgery and a blood transfusion ASAP. ETA?”

“No need,” Superboy interrupted. “I can hear them.”

“Never mind,” Wally said quickly. “Superboy can hear you.”

The Flash skidded to a stop nearby, followed soon by Superman, Wonder Woman and the Green Lanterns, who were carrying the non-fliers of the League, minus Batman who landed his black jet some distance away. Wally could have cried with relief. And when he looked down at Dick, he had passed out. Damn it.

“He’s unconscious,” Wally called to the League, tapping Dick’s cheek. Dick was unresponsive. Wally felt for a pulse. Weak, but still there.

“Superman, get him to the nearest zeta tube and to the Watchtower,” Batman ordered. “I need anybody with the requisite surgical training to follow.”

Superman knelt to lift Dick from Wally’s arms. “We’ll take care of him,” he promised. He cradled Dick like a baby and rose into the air. Batman organised rides for medics in the background, while Wally just stared at the spot where Dick had been. The grass was stained with the blood he’d coughed up, and Wally’s costume was covered in patches of the stuff. He barely paid attention as the League dispersed, until Artemis laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Baywatch,” she said quietly. “We’re heading back in the bioship. The League will keep us updated.” She dragged Wally to his feet.

“The bioship will be here in a moment,” said M’gann. The mission was over, and Wally’s brain had long ticked over back into civilian mode. Holding a dying loved one seemed to have that effect.

The ship landed and the team trudged in its direction. Wally’s throat was tight. He would not cry in front of the team. He would  _not_.

* * *

Barry was there when the team arrived back at Mount Justice.

“Dick’s in surgery,” he told the team. “Superman says you should all get some rest.”

“How  _can_  we?” Roy replied. Wally silently agreed with him, but he felt too nauseous to speak.

“Somebody from the League will tell you if there’s any more news,” said Barry. “I know you’re worried, but the best thing you can do right now is wind down and take care of yourselves.”

“We will do our best,” said Kaldur, and the team dispersed.

Barry pulled Wally aside. “Sorry I ran off before.  I had to get Dinah to the watchtower. You okay?”

Wally shrugged; he still didn’t feel like talking.

“Come on. You’re staying with me and Iris tonight.”

Wally was only dimly aware of the journey to their house. He perked up when Barry placed a bowl of leftover pasta in front of him on the dining room table, but only a little.

“Eat all of it,” Barry ordered. “You look like you’re running on fumes, kiddo.”

Eating… that was something Wally could do. He mechanically shovelled pasta into his mouth while Barry watched him closely, barely touching his own dish.

“What happened out there?”

“It was a trap,” Wally replied, slowing down. Okay, mission summary. That was doable. “The Joker must’ve figured out one of Roy’s sources and had one of his own guys pass the intel. He and Poison Ivy were waiting for us. We got shoved into a trapdoor while the Joker took Dick.”

“And tried to kill him again.”

Wally dropped his fork, no longer hungry. “Yeah.”

“I told you to eat all of that.”

Wally grudgingly picked up the fork again.

“He’ll be okay,” Barry tried to assure him. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a kid tougher than Dick.”

“Even Dick has his limits,” Wally muttered. Dick had been so convinced he was dying. He’d died before, so wouldn’t he know best? No, Wally couldn’t accept that. The thought of losing Dick again… it threatened to overwhelm him completely. He couldn’t go through that again, not when they’d finally managed to untangle how they felt for each other.

“This might be a bad time,” Barry said slowly, “but I wanted to ask you something. It’s about Dick.” Wally grunted as an invitation to continue. “You and Dick… you’re together now, aren’t you?”

Wally nodded. He noticed Iris in the doorway out of the corner of his eye.

“How long have you had feelings for him?” Barry asked.

“Years,” Wally said quietly.

“Oh, Wally,” said Iris, stepping into the room proper. “Why didn’t you tell us? We wouldn’t have let you go through losing him alone.”

That finally broke the dam, and Wally broke down. Barry and Iris held onto him, letting him cry. This wasn’t what Wally had envisioned whenever he’d thought about coming out. It wasn’t even his worst nightmare, but maybe it should have been.

“I can’t—I can’t—”

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

Dick was somewhere up in space, hovering between life and death, and all Wally could do was cry down here on earth in the solid embrace of his aunt and uncle.


	9. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning brings news and Wally has a taste of the consequences of the team's newly-acquired knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ALIVE!
> 
> Sorry for taking so long. This chapter was a bit of a crawl to write. Some people say that's a sign that the chapter is something you're not enjoying and therefore the reader won't enjoy it either, but if I followed that advice I'd probably never finish anything ever.

Barry dropped Wally off at Mount Justice on the way to the Watchtower, promising to return quickly with news. The team, minus Roy, milled in the main chamber while they waited.

“Did you go home last night?” Wally asked Jason.

“Yeah.” Jason yawned into his hand. Wally couldn’t help but yawn immediately afterwards.

“How’s everyone holding up over there?”

Jason groaned, his usual slouch becoming even more pronounced. “Bruce was out all night looking for the Joker. He only came back in the morning because Alfred made him. He looked pissed when he came home, so I stayed out of his way until he went to bed. Alfred’s stress-cleaning.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here. Alfred offered to clean your uniform.”

Wally’s stomach lurched at the memory of all that blood. He swallowed, and tried for a smile. “I think my aunt has that covered, but tell him thanks.”

“ _You_ tell him,” Jason muttered.

“Maybe I will. God knows he doesn’t hear it often enough.”

“The cookies are burning again,” said Conner. M’gann gasped and flew toward the kitchen.

“Again?” asked Wally.

“It’s her third batch,” Zatanna said, sighing. “I tried helping her but… well…” She shrugged. “Did you hear any news overnight?”

Wally shook his head. “No. But no news is good news, right?”

M’gann flew back in, levitating the tray of darkened cookies in front of her. “I’m sure we would’ve heard by now if something went wrong,” she said with forced cheer that teetered on the edge of hysteria. It didn’t make Wally feel better, but eating the burnt cookies at least gave him something to do. He just wished Barry would hurry up and come back. There had been no word from the Watchtower all night. Wally would’ve known otherwise; he didn’t sleep a wink.

“He better not die again,” said Jason, chewing on one of the less-burnt cookies. “Bruce is enough of an ass already.”

“You’re such a shit,” Wally replied, not unkindly.

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to live with the guy.”

“I’m over there enough. I swear the lot of you live in a soap opera.”

“Yeah, a badly-written one.”

“Is there any other kind?”

Artemis snickered somewhere behind them. If Wally had been in a better mood, he might’ve continued that line of conversation to ridiculous lengths just to see if he could make her completely lose it. Today just wasn’t the day for it.

Thankfully, Barry returned before Wally’s mood could sink much further. The team collectively stiffened as he materialised and stepped out of the tube.

“Well?” demanded Wally.

“Dick got through the surgery,” Barry replied. “I’ve been told he should wake up within a few days. Batman sent a few specialists his way overnight, so he’s in good hands.”

Wally felt himself relax. At least Dick got through the night. That was the tricky part, wasn’t it? Get through the first night and the others will follow. Well, of course they fucking would. You couldn’t exactly get through more nights if you didn’t get through the first. Wally had to resist the temptation to bang his head against something. If this was what his brain was like after one sleepless night, he hated to think how Dick felt most of the time. These days, tired was his natural state. Wally imagined, after what he’d just been through, that it would only be worse in the future.

But Dick had one. He had a future. He’d survived. He would wake up, and Wally was going to be there when he did.

“I will tell Roy the news,” said Kaldur. “I take it we will be informed if the situation changes?”

 “Of course,” replied Barry. “I doubt it’ll be a problem, but if the League decides they don’t want to share, I’ll do it personally.”

“You have our thanks.”

“Uh, yeah, you’re welcome.” Barry scratched the back of his neck over his costume. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to the Watchtower. I’ll see you guys later. Wally, can we talk for a minute?”

The rest of the team dispersed, leaving Barry and Wally free to talk quietly in the corner of the room.

“Hey, so Dick isn’t supposed to be having visitors right now,” said Barry, “but if you wanted to see him I could probably get you a few minutes.”

“We’re not going to end up bataranged to the ceiling, are we?”

“Eh, we’ll just leave if we hear Bruce is coming. No biggie. But apparently he was out all night chasing after the Joker, so I bet he’ll be dead to the world for a few more hours at least.”

“Yeah, Jason mentioned something about that.”

“So, did you want to see him?”

“Yeah, but I’d feel a bit bad going to see him before Jason,” replied Wally. “I mean, he’s family.”

“Go get him. I’ll take both of you.”

Wally ran into the living area, plucked Jason from his seat and dragged him out without a word. Jason only complained a little, settling down when he caught sight of Barry.

“Did you want to see Dick?” Barry asked him. “I can get you a few minutes.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jason didn’t look particularly excited about the prospect. Wally figured he was concerned about how bad Dick was going to look. Wally felt the same.

“You don’t have to come,” Wally offered.

“No, I want to.” Jason set his face into a determined glare that reminded Wally of Dick when he was training especially hard, or using every ounce of his patience not to punch someone. Usually that someone was Bruce.

“All right,” said Barry. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Black Canary was in the room when they showed up, but she just pressed a finger to her lips and slipped out past them. Wally barely noticed; the beeping of Dick’s heart monitor ate away at his concentration.

“I’ll, uh, be back in a few minutes,” Barry said. He shut the door, leaving the boys inside.

Dick’s oxygen mask shone in the unnatural light. Dick’s breaths were still rough, but they were no longer wet. He must’ve stopped bleeding internally at some point, thank God.

The bruises on Dick’s face had fully blossomed into purple, and the skin was especially swollen around the eyes. What could be seen of Dick’s complexion was deathly pale, almost colourless in the harsh lighting of the room.

Whoever had been responsible for dressing him had left him shirtless, but he was so covered in bandages that it was hardly going to make a difference either way. His right lower leg was left uncovered and propped up on a pillow, encased in plaster from the foot to beneath the knee, low enough to allow for bending.

He looked better. But not by much.

Jason gave Wally a sideways glance. “Should we…?”

“I… yeah. Probably.” Standing by the door was starting to get awkward. They stepped closer to Dick’s bed. He looked even worse close-up, and Wally found his insides knotting painfully.

“I never really got why Bruce was always so uptight about the Joker,” Jason muttered. “I mean, I knew what he did and all that, but I… I don’t know. To think the biggest danger to this family is a freaking _clown_.”

Remaining silent, Wally watched the oxygen mask fog and unfog in time with Dick’s breaths. His arms ached to hold him again, to feel his weight and know that Dick was still alive, that he was _real_.

“I’ll… wait outside.” Jason left them alone. Wally blinked, and tears spilled over. Damn it. There was no way Jason hadn’t noticed them.

Wally swiped them away—he’d done enough crying last night—and fell into the seat by Dick’s bedside. Mindful of all the tubes, he wormed one of his hands beneath Dick’s and clasped it as tightly as he dared in the younger boy’s condition.

“You look like shit and your hand is freezing,” Wally said to him. “But apparently you’re not going to die, so that’s something, I guess. The team hasn’t said anything about us or what the Joker told them yet. I think they’re holding off until you’re doing better. Or maybe they’ll ambush me the next time I visit them, now that they know you’re gonna recover. Not looking forward to that. Oh, and Barry and Iris know about us now, but they’re cool with it. It’d be a pretty dick move to complain about it when we thought you might die, I guess.”

He pressed a kiss to Dick’s knuckles. The skin was cracked, snaking lines of scabs covering the damage. It took quite a bit of punishment to do that under the gloves he wore in the field, but Wally supposed the damage could have occurred after the Joker had discarded them. He had no way of knowing. There were bigger issues right now, but being unable to pinpoint when such a minor injury occurred still irked Wally.

Dick’s mystery injuries had never bothered him this much before. It was just par for the course when you were dating a teammate with no superpowers. It wasn’t often these days that Wally saw the worst of it himself—Dick didn’t change in front of him very often like they both used to in the early days of the team before everything got complicated with feelings and deaths—but Wally would still invariably end up touching the site of such an injury. Dick would try to hide his flinch. Wally had quickly learned to just ignore it; apologising and drawing attention to it would just make Dick irritable for the rest of the day. And forget about offering to tend to his injuries after a rough mission.

God, he was going to be insufferable recovering from this. Wally promised himself he wouldn’t take it personally. The best he could do was be there for Dick as much as he’d let him. It wasn’t hard just to judge from variations in his under-eye circles that Dick dealt with his problems better when Wally was around. They both knew it. Bruce knew it. Jason knew it. Alfred and Dinah and damn near everybody knew it.

Dick’s finger twitched. Wally froze, his heart hammering in his throat.

“…Dick?”

No response. He was still out cold. Wally let out a long breath.

“Damn it, Dick. Don’t get my hopes up like that.”

The door creaked open behind him. Wally glanced back to find Barry poking his head into the room.

“Time’s up, kid,” he said. “Alfred just warned me Batman’s up, and in a bad mood.”

“Shit. Let’s go.” Wally squeezed Dick’s hand one last time before letting go and following Barry out of the room. They met up with Jason at the zeta tube and headed back to Mount Justice. The team was filing into the main chamber as the three of them materialised.

“Did you get in touch with Roy?” Wally asked Kaldur.

“He did,” Roy answered for him upon entering the room. “Now we know Dick’s going to be okay, we need to talk.”

“I’m outta here,” Barry said, retreating back into the zeta tube.

“We have discussed the situation in your absence,” Kaldur said to Wally, “and come to the decision to keep what we learned from the Joker between us for the time being.”

“We wanted to make sense of things before we think about telling anyone,” Zatanna added.

“I don’t want to talk about Dick behind his back like this,” Wally replied.

“Too bad,” said Conner, crossing his arms. “We want answers.”

“Maybe I’ll talk if you ask nicely.” On another day, Wally might’ve snapped at him, but today was a slow simmer. He might very well snap later, but right now he didn’t have the energy.

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Fine. _Please_.”

“Okay, but I’m not promising to tell you everything.”

“Good enough,” said Roy.

“Hang on.” Jason brought up the holocomputer in the middle of the room and pressed a few buttons. “Dick taught me how to turn off the surveillance cams. Don’t want the League listening in.” He finished up. “Okay, we’re good.”

“Did you know Dick was the Red Hood?” asked Raquel.

“I figured it out months ago,” Wally replied. “Dick visited me a little before the Red Hood showed up in Gotham. Made me swear not to tell anyone he was alive. Then, a few months later, Artemis mentioned seeing a guy who looked like him at a library.”

“So it _was_ him,” Artemis muttered.

“Yeah, I went to the same library and found him,” Wally continued. “We talked for a bit. He said he’d tell Batman he was back after he’d done a few things he needed to do. I couldn’t get much out of him.”

“And how did you figure out he was the Red Hood?” asked Artemis.

“Jason was telling me about the Red Hood one day and all the information matched up. I went to Batman, and he confirmed it… and got pissed at me for not telling him Dick was alive. But since I was the only other person in the biz who knew about it, I ended up helping him investigate.”

“Did you find him?” Zatanna asked.

“Not before he went after the Joker,” Wally answered. “Batman managed to stop Dick from killing him, but I had to chase Dick down afterwards and convince him to go home and get help. He took some time to get his head back on straight—well, straight _er_ —and made a new identity to work under. Black Canary eventually cleared him to go out in the field again. Batman took him out for a few trial runs, the world didn’t fall apart, he eventually was allowed back on the team.”

“That sounds too easy,” said Roy.

“I’m leaving a lot out. I don’t want to say too much without Dick’s permission.”

“Why?” Conner asked.

Wally could feel himself vibrating in frustration. “Uh, because it’s his life we’re talking about? I don’t know how _your_ relationship works, but he didn’t sign away his right to privacy when we started dating.”

“Perhaps we could return to the matter at hand,” Kaldur said before Conner had a chance to respond. “I am afraid the team feels that concealing this information was a breach of trust.”

“Dick always planned to tell you guys eventually,” Wally replied. “He just didn’t want to say anything until things settled down a bit.”

“That’s easy to say _now_.”

Wally snapped. “Conner, shut it. I just came from seeing the poor bastard beaten up and unconscious in a hospital bed wearing an _oxygen mask_. I’m not in the mood for your shit today.”

“Guys, please stop fighting,” M’gann interjected.

“This probably wouldn’t have happened if you’d held off until Dick woke up,” said Jason. “Just saying.”

“ _Yeah_ , this was a bad idea,” Raquel agreed.

“Whatever.” Wally started for the zeta tube. “I’m going home.”

“Wait up.” Artemis caught up with him. “I’m coming.”

“Uh, why?”

“Because I want to. Got a problem with that?”

Wally shrugged. “Not really. Come on, then.”

Artemis was notoriously difficult to dissuade once she decided on a course of action. Besides, maybe it’d be easier talking to her rather than the whole team right now.

They entered the tube and stepped out again in Central City, which, like many others, was situated inside a phone booth. Not many people needed phone booths these days, and they also weren’t so conspicuous that people felt the need to check them out.

“This has got to be rough on you,” Artemis said as the two of them began the short walk to Barry and Iris’ house; Wally didn’t feel up to facing his parents yet. They didn’t know about his relationship with Dick, but with Dick so prominently on his mind right now it just felt too weird to go there. Barry and Iris’ place was just as much a home as his parents’ house anyway.

“No shit.”

“I didn’t expect Dick to do what he did.” Artemis looked around her, careful to keep her language ambiguous when she saw people nearby.

“I didn’t either,” Wally replied. “But it happened. I got over it ages ago.”

“How?”

“Don’t repeat this to anyone,” Wally said. “Remember Dick telling the team about his PTSD? Well, I’ve seen it first-hand. It’s hard to be too damning when faced with that.”

They stopped at a traffic light crossing. Artemis punched the button.

“So, you’ve been around him enough to trust him in a fight?”

“He’s as good as ever,” Wally confirmed. “Better, actually.”

“Sounds like he picked up some skills while he was away.”

The crossing light turned green, so they started across the road.

“He did. He kept up to date with hacking developments and all that, plus he’s got more experience with explosives and guns.” They finished crossing. “His hand-to-hand is even tighter than before, though he prefers using his escrima rather than going bare-handed these days.” There weren’t many people around as they neared Wally’s house, so he wasn’t too concerned about being overheard. If anybody gave them weird looks, they could always start talking like it’s a video game or something.

“Well, I’m glad to have him back,” said Artemis. Barry and Iris’ house was in sight. “If _Batman_ of all people can forgive him, then so can I.”

“Glad _you_ see it that way,” Wally muttered. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Like, I sort of get why people might be a bit freaked out but, at the same time, it’s not like he’s doing that anymore. I mean… I don’t think he should get a free pass—he’d be the first to agree with me on that—but it’d be nice if people would at least reserve judgment until he has the chance to defend himself. I just… shit, it’s complicated. I’m gonna make myself a sandwich and drown my sorrows in it.”

“Make me one while you’re at it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wally fished out his keys, darted up to the door and unlocked it. “After you, Your Majesty.”

“Damn right.”

Yeah, Wally definitely had a type: sarcastic little shits who could kick his ass from here to next Tuesday and back again. He was okay with that.

Wally made a beeline for the kitchen. Artemis slid into a stool at the bench and watched him gather the ingredients. He threw a few of the non-breakable ones at her, because he could. She was used to him throwing food at her by now; that practically summed up their brief relationship before things went to hell.

“So, how’d you two start dating?” Artemis asked, watching Wally slap some bread on the cutting board.

Wally started buttering it. “Eh, Dick was feeling crappy so we had a camping trip on the grounds of Wayne Manor so he could get away from Bruce for a bit. They were at each other’s throats a lot back then.”

“You hate camping.”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

Artemis snorted. “You’re such a pushover.”

Wally threw some ham and cheese on the sandwich and shoved it at her. “Shh. It was Wayne Manor, not some untamed wilderness. You remember that radio show M’gann tried to get us all hooked on a couple years back?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Wally started on buttering the bread for his own sandwich. “Yeah, well, I texted the host and—”

Artemis choked on her sandwich. “You gave Dick a love song dedication? And it _worked_?”

“Of course it did. I’m me, remember?” He grabbed several slices of ham and dropped them on the bread.

“I just… wow. I would not have pegged him as the type to go for that.”

“I didn’t just do it randomly, Artemis. _God_. There was talking and shit around it, too.”

“Talking and shit. Sounds romantic.”

Wally pointed at her with the butterknife. “You’re the worst listener ever. I don’t even want to finish telling you this story anymore.”

“But you will. Get me some water.”

“Right away, princess.” Wally filled up a glass and slid it across the counter. “Anyway, we kind of danced a bit and kept talking and then I told him how I felt and he kissed me so hard we fell over.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that worked out for you,” said Artemis, sipping her water. “I would’ve been pissed if you’d ignored everything I said when we broke up.”

“Yeah, I… thanks. I really needed to hear it.”

“Somebody had to pull your head out of your ass. You might need the room.”

“Was that an anal sex joke, Arty? Seriously?”

“Well, _I_ thought it was funny.”

“It might’ve been. It’s just, uh… that kind of thing is… not on the table right now.”

“But you have thought about it.”

“A bit.” Wally shrugged. “Dick’s told me he’s not going to be ready for a while, so I haven’t been dwelling on it too much. Got more important things to think about. Oh, and, for the record, don’t tell anybody what I’ve been telling you today. Not even Dick. I’m not sure how he’d take it.”

“My lips are sealed.”

* * *

Wally spent as much time by Dick’s bedside as he could. Bruce wasn’t around much, as the Joker was still at large. Jason had kept Wally updated on the situation, usually rolling his eyes at how creepily obsessive Bruce had gotten. Wally just hoped he caught the Joker soon. Knowing Dick, he wouldn’t respond very well if Bruce never came to see him when he finally woke up. That was a piece of drama everybody could do without. Knowing _Bruce_ , however, it was almost inevitable.

Dick woke two days after Wally’s initial visit, right after lunch. Wally had barely settled down in the chair before the younger boy’s fingers curled inward and a soft moan escaped his lips.

“Dick?”

“Mmm?” Dick’s eyelids fluttered, but remained shut.

“You with me, babe?”

His eyes shot wide open, darting to Wally’s face. His fingers tightened around Wally’s palm.

“How are you feeling?”

“Floaty.” His voice was muffled slightly by the oxygen mask.

“Yeah, you’re on a lot of painkillers. No operating heavy machinery for a while, okay?”

“There goes my evening.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?”

“Well, now you’ve put me on the spot and I can’t think of anything.”

“You’re a disappointment,” Dick sighed, fogging up the oxygen mask.

“High as a kite and still a snark machine. If snark was a weapon, you’d be unstoppable.”

“Are you saying I’m not?” He growled and tapping the fingers of his free hand against the mask. “Shit, I hate these things.”

“Don’t touch it,” Wally scolded.

“Fuck off.”

“We’ll get you onto a nasal cannula soon,” said Black Canary, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“Stoned, yet pissed.”

“I have that effect on people,” said Wally.

“I can barely feel my face.”

“That’s… probably for the best.”

“Do I still have ribs? I can’t feel those, either.”

“Yeah, you still have ribs. They’re a little worse for wear, but they exist.”

Black Canary chuckled as she changed the IV bag. “You also still have feet. I’d mention your hands, but you seem to have found those all right.”

Dick wiggled his fingers. “Feels like they’re swimming through custard.”

“We’ll lower your dosage once you’ve healed up a bit,” said Black Canary. “Are you in any pain?”

Dick shook his head. “I just want this mask gone.”

“Give it a few days, then we’ll see.” Black Canary examined the various monitors and equipment around the room. “You’ve done well so far. Just concentrate on getting better and we’ll take care of the rest.” She left.

Dick screwed his eyes shut. “Brain’s fuzzy. There was something I wanted to ask, but I can’t think…”

“Batman’s still looking for the Joker,” Wally told him. “The team’s also started asking questions about that thing the Joker said.” He wasn’t sure where Superman was, so it was best to keep things nonspecific just in case he was within earshot. “I had to try explaining some things, but it didn’t go well. I think most of the team will at least let you speak for yourself before drawing conclusions, but Conner’s going to be a problem. Not sure about Roy. I had a chat with Artemis afterwards and she’s fine with everything. So that’s at least one person we’ve got in our corner.”

That seemed to defog Dick’s mind a little. “What the hell did you say to her to pull _that_ off?”

“Ah, well, I pointed out it was hard to be too harsh on you since I’ve seen you dealing with the PTSD.” Wally had to be careful not to pick the wrong words, or Dick could get angry he’d shared secrets with someone else without his permission. “And, despite everything, you’re still reliable in a fight. I didn’t have to try too hard, really. She was happy to trust Batman’s judgment to let you back out in the field. Then she started asking about how we ended up dating so I gave her a summary about the camping thing. Was that okay?”

“Yeah.” Dick’s eyelids were drooping, and his speech distorted with a yawn. “I guess.”

“Tired, babe?”

“Yeah.”

Wally kissed a spot on Dick’s forehead that looked clear of bruises. “Get some rest. You’re safe here.”

“No.”

“Don’t be silly. Go to sleep.”

“No.”

“ _Dick_.”

“No.”

“Would you stop saying no and close your damn eyes?”

“…No.”

Wally made a mental note to remember Dick was utterly insufferable when he was high. “Do I need to call Black Canary to come knock you out?”

But there was no need. Dick’s eyes were already closed and his breathing steady.

Wally chuckled. “Sweet dreams, you pain in the ass.”


	10. Recuperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick continues to recuperate in the Watchtower with the help of Wally and Dinah. A visit from Clark unearths anxieties Dick had mostly shoved into the back of his mind until now. Oh, and Bruce is being distant again because that always works out well for everybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're currently in a little bit of a lull between plot points, so this chapter doesn't do much in the way of plot development.

Replacing the oxygen mask with a cannula wasn’t enough to salvage Dick’s mood once Dinah lowered his pain meds.

“I can give you a higher dosage if you need it,” she said, having found him sulking the next time she checked on him.

“It’s fine,” Dick muttered. He could feel twinges all over his body, but it was manageable, if annoying. No, his mood had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the fact he was now lucid enough to be sick of being in this damn bed already while the bastard who put him there was _still at large_ and Batman was off chasing after him and hadn’t even bothered looking in on him once. And his leg was itchy inside the cast and he couldn’t do a thing about it. Oh, and the team had been sent off on another mission so Wally wasn’t around to get his mind off things. Basically, everything sucked and life deserved to have a pitchfork stabbed right into its stupid face.

“Dick, there’s nothing wrong with needing—”

“I’m not in pain,” Dick snapped.

“All right, talk to me.” Dinah settled herself in the chair at his bedside.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“You know I won’t force you to talk to me,” Dinah said slowly, “but if you tell me what’s bothering you, maybe I can help.” She wasn’t scolding him for being snappish, but Dick felt chastened all the same.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right. How can I help you feel better?”

“I need something to do,” Dick replied. He needed some way to escape the confines of this room, and leaving it physically was utterly out of the question.

“Bored?”

“Very.”

“I’ll talk to Alfred. Is there anything in particular you wanted?”

“My mp3 player would be nice. And maybe some books, but I don’t think I’m up to reading them yet.”

“I’ll pick some up for when you are.”

“And my laptop?”

“I’ll grab the kitchen sink on the way back,” Dinah joked, gently tousling his hair. “I can get everything now if you want, unless you’d rather I kept you company?”

“You may leave.”

Dinah snorted, getting up. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Dinah,” Dick said sweetly. He felt a little less liable to shred his bedsheets now at least.

* * *

The mp3 player was a godsend. Dick just plugged himself in, lay back and closed his eyes. God, he’d missed the little thing. It had been a gift from Bruce after another one of their fights, which had pushed Dick over the edge of a sensory overload meltdown. The mp3 player had turned up on Dick’s pillow a few days later without a note, but Dick had understood it as an apology. Bruce made more of an effort to apologise for his mistakes lately, but that didn’t mean he no longer struggled with it. He probably always would.

Dick was so immersed in the music that he didn’t notice Wally had shown up until the song had finished, letting Wally’s voice cut through at last.

“Oh, hey,” said Dick, pausing the player. “When’d you get here?”

“Three minutes ago. Didn’t want to startle you.”

“Thanks.” It was impossible to completely avoid Dick’s occasional startle reflex, but Wally got closer than most. “How’d the mission go?”

“Eh.” Wally shrugged. “We thought we’d be rescuing more kids, but the place was empty. We grabbed what intel we could find and looked around a bit. Didn’t find anyone.”

“I hope that intel’s good at least.”

“We turned it over the Batman at the debrief.”

“Huh. Does he look different? Has he grown horns? Wings? Fur? Because I sure as hell wouldn’t know.”

“He _still_ hasn’t come to see you?”

“If it weren’t for you and Jason and the occasional call from Alfred, I wouldn’t even know he was alive,” Dick said bitterly, tossing his mp3 player on the bedside table. The action pulled at something in his torso, making him wince. “Shut up,” he said before Wally could comment. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you’re truly the face of fineness.”

“Fine enough you wanted to date me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to Alfred about Bruce and we’ll see how far he gets with him.”

Dick scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“Thank you. So, what were you listening to before I interrupted you?”

“Music.”

“Oh, that’s helpful. What kind of music?”

“The kind I wish I was listening to instead of having this conversation.”

“ _Ouch_. We need to get you out of here before you grind my ego into dust.”

“Oh, hush. I was listening to Disney. Happy?”

“I wanna listen to Disney.”

“You can if you grab my mp3 player for me.”

“Oh, so you _admit_ you hurt yourself putting it away?”

Dick raised his fist. “Don’t be fooled by the hospital bed, West. I can still take you.”

Wally patted him on the head. “Of course you can.”

He zipped around Dick’s bed to grab the mp3 player. Dick had to close his eyes; the sight of his boyfriend’s super speed made his stomach lurch ominously.

“Oh, did you want to sleep?”

“No.” Dick opened his eyes to find Wally settled back in his seat, untangling the earphones.

“Jesus Christ, Dick. How’d you mess them up this badly just by _putting them down_?”

“It’s my superpower.”

Wally snorted, untangling the mess at last. He passed one earbud to Dick and put the other in his own ear. “Okay, let’s—” Dick snatched the player from his hands. “Huh?”

“My music, my rules.”

Wally shook his head, laughing. “I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t die again. I would’ve missed your dickish ways.”

“Hilarious.” Dick started his player up again. “How long did it take for you to come up with that one?”

“I’m always looking for ways to slip that in somewhere.” Wally grabbed a water bottle from somewhere out of Dick’s line of sight and raised it to his lips.

“As long as it’s not going in my ass, we’re cool.”

Wally spat water everywhere. Dick could reach just far enough to pat his back to help with the coughing. “God damn it, dude. Don’t say things like that when I’m drinking.”

Dick tried to laugh, but it devolved into a weak cough. He turned on the music, glaring at Wally not to say anything. Wally charitably shut up, resting his head on the pillow beside Dick’s. The first song that came up was something sad from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Dick grunted and changed tracks; listening to depressing music probably wasn’t the greatest of ideas right now. Then _I’ll Make a Man Out of You_ started playing.

“Oh, hell yes,” Dick murmured, turning up the volume. Wally started singing along in his ear. Dick wiggled along; he couldn’t do much more than that. At some point, Wally had to stop singing because he was laughing too hard.

“Oh my God, Dick. What are you doing?”

“I’m dancing.”

“That’s the majestic mating dance of the slug, dude. Stop it.”

“You called me majestic.”

“Yeah, for a slug.”

Dick flicked Wally’s nose. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Wally sobered a little at that. “Yeah, I love you too.” The laughter twinkled in his eyes, threatening to burst out again. “You’re a very cute slug.”

“Congratulations. You created a moment and then ruined it yourself.”

Wally shrugged. “Ruining my own moments saves time.”

“But I wanted to ruin it.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Wally patted the top of Dick’s head. “We’ll have plenty more moments to ruin.”

“We better,” Dick grumbled.

Wally kissed his forehead. “Adorable grumpy slug.”

“I will eat you alive, Wally.”

Wally tilted backwards, his mouth unsuccessfully twisting to hide a smile. “What was that? You’ll eat me alive? Where’d that come from?”

Dick groaned. “Oh, cut me some slack. I’m still stoned as hell. Maybe not quite as stoned as before, but stoned nonetheless. I’m probably at the level of ‘pebble’ on the great chart of stonedness.”

“What were you before Black Canary lowered your dose?”

“Whatever that big rock in Australia is called. I forget. I’m too high for this shit.”

“You were all right a minute ago.”

“I performed a slug dance, Wally. A _slug dance_. Just because I’m not slurring my words doesn’t mean I’m not off my goddamn face.” As if to demonstrate, Dick smacked himself in the face. In hindsight, that probably wasn’t a good idea. His nose felt funny now.

Wally grabbed his hands and set them down on the bed. “Okay, calm down. No need to be so aggressive about being off your face.”

“Why did I do that?”

“I don’t know, babe. I really don’t.”

“Every time,” Dick grumbled. “This happens every time I get on pain meds.”

“You smack yourself when you’re on pain meds?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you should sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Dick snapped. “If dealing with me is such a burden, you could always just leave.”

Wally sighed. “Dick, that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“Look, I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” Wally said quietly. “I know you have trouble sleeping and it makes everything harder for you. You’re not a burden to me, babe, and you never have been.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.” Honestly, Dick was a little shocked at himself. He hadn’t seen that coming until the words had already been spewing out of his mouth.

“Hm, let’s see if I can figure that out for you.” Wally pressed a finger mock-thoughtfully to his lips. “ _Well_ , you nearly died, you’re stuck in a hospital bed and have to rely on other people for damn near everything… oh, and your dad’s doing that whole ‘avoiding his kid’ thing again. Because that’s always turned out well.”

“I still shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” said Dick. “None of that’s your fault.”

“I know, and thanks for apologising.” Wally kissed his temple. “We’ll get it sorted out.”

“Alfred’s good, but I don’t know if he’s _that_ good.”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“Yeah…” Dick exited the playlist and flicked through the larger pool of songs on his mp3 player, not really paying attention to their titles. He’d never admit it to anyone else, but maybe he was taken off the higher pain medication too quickly. The minor twinges and discomfort were tolerable, but maybe they were making him more irritable than he thought on top of all the other bullshit going through his head.

Wally’s fingers combed through Dick’s hair, pausing to massage his scalp. Dick closed his eyes and let him. The pair dissolved into a companionable silence, tied together by a string of dorky love ballads. Dick skipped Enrique’s “Hero” with a snort-laugh, sticking his tongue out when Wally whined at him.

“But that’s our _song_ , Dick. _Dick_. _Diiiiiiick_.”

“Shut up and keep massaging me, unless you want to listen to Justin Bieber.”

“You’re evil.” Wally kept massaging Dick’s scalp anyway, planting a kiss on his nose. “And you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.”

“Damn straight.”

“Unlike us.”

They both snickered. Dick had to stop to cough, pain shooting through his ribs. Wally’s face had fallen into a frown by the time he was finished, so Dick smoothed out the older boy’s forehead with his fingers.

“No frowning,” he managed through the pain.

“I think you need to be on a higher dose, babe.”

“I don’t—”

“You’re already enough of a badass without gritting your teeth through pain you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place,” Wally said firmly. “I’m calling Dinah. Trust me?”

“I… okay.”

* * *

Dick didn’t sleep well that night. He wasn’t even sure what he dreamt about, only that he woke up with tears in his eyes. Wally had left him to rest hours ago, so there was nobody around to calm him down. He lay there in the darkened room, sucking in air at gradually slower intervals until he didn’t feel like passing out. His ribs ached dully under the haze of painkillers.

A soft knock came from the other side of the door. Dick cleared his throat and tried to tell them to come in—he could use the company right now—but the words barely made it past his lips. Fortunately, the person who entered had the advantage of super-hearing.

“Your breathing sounded off.” Clark shut the door behind himself. “Are you all right?”

“Better now,” Dick managed.

“What happened?”

“Weird dream. Don’t remember it. Freaked me out.”

Clark sat in the chair, sweeping his cape aside. “I can stay for a while if you want company.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t visit sooner.”

“Luthor?”

“Who else?”

“There’s always someone else.”

“Sadly.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad if we could hold onto the ones we catch for more than five minutes,” Dick muttered bitterly.

“You know that’s out of our control, Dick,” Clark replied.

Dick snorted. “Keep going and you’ll start sounding like _him_.”

“Everything okay between you two?”

“No.”

Clark petted Dick’s hand sympathetically. “I guess you, Jason and Alfred got the worst of his temper lately, huh?”

“He and I kept snapping at each other until I started sleeping at Mount Justice to get away from it.”

“He hasn’t come to see you yet, has he?”

“Pfft. Of course not. Been over this with Wally already. I don’t feel like talking about it again.”

“Okay,” Clark said mildly. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“I have been wondering something.”

“Oh?”

“I’m kind of in a news blackout up here. What exactly did the Joker’s wizard friends do that forced the whole League to respond?”

“They, uh…” Clark laughed uncomfortably. “Well, they managed to occupy Melbourne over in Australia and start turning the citizens into barnyard animals.”

“…seriously?”

“I wish I was joking, Dick. I really do. Ollie was turned into a pig.”

“Did he get better?”

“Doctor Fate worked his magic quickly enough. A few of our guys are still combing through the city in case we missed anybody.”

“Has Artemis found out about Ollie?”

“Uh, not yet.”

Dick grinned. “I’m gonna tell her. Or I’ll have Wally tell her. Either way, Ollie’s not living this down.”

“Well, if it makes you happy…”

Dick would’ve laughed if he hadn’t learned his lesson about laughing with broken ribs. He managed a half-cough thing instead. Clark’s petting moved from his hand to his hair. The guy was really a giant teddy bear filled with sunshine, wrapped up in the body of a big, muscly boy scout in long underwear. Even as Dick thought about that, though, he wondered how Clark would handle finding out about what Dick had done in the name of revenge. How would the League handle it? At least the team was being reasonable enough to wait for Dick to defend himself, but how long would that last? Dick wasn’t ready to lose the trust and camaraderie they’d once so freely given him. But he brought this on himself, damn it.

And with that, he didn’t want Clark near him anymore. What was the point of leeching his affection now when he’d surely lose it all later when the truth finally came out? It was nothing short of self-flagellation.

“Dick?” Clark’s voice was full of concern; Dick didn’t need good lighting to figure out what his face looked like. Clark’s brow would be slightly furrowed, at odds with the minute widening of his eyes, his head tilted forward even as he sat up straighter. Dick was so not prepared to deal with that.

“I just… I want to be alone.” Dick turned his head away from Clark.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please go.”

“I’ll visit tomorrow,” Clark promised. His chair creaked, followed shortly by the door, and then he was gone.

Dick really didn’t want him to visit tomorrow, but Clark didn’t make promises lightly. He’d just have to endure it and try not to think too hard about what would happen in the future. The whole situation was a goddamn powder keg. It didn’t matter how well he and his family kept it under wraps, too many people knew already. Even if the team kept their word and didn’t slip up, there was still the Joker to take into account. He’d already proven he was more than happy—positively gleeful—to spread around Dick’s former identity and actions. If he encountered any member of the League, the secret was out. There was no guarantee Bruce would be able to contain the situation.

The thought of the League turning on him… it made Dick’s stomach hurt. He reached blindly for his mp3 player on the bedside table. He had to stop thinking about this. At least if he was at home there would be a wealth of things to do, and it would be far easier to avoid people he couldn’t handle. Damn Clark and his kindness.

His fingers finally closed around the cool plastic and he dragged the thing towards him. No, it wasn’t Clark’s fault. He was just doing what he always did, because it was the right thing to do. Dick was the problem here. He didn’t deserve anybody’s sympathy, but he could hardly blame people who didn’t know that.

Dick shoved the earphones into place and switched on the music. Maybe he’d be able to catch a little more sleep and feel better in the morning.

* * *

“Hey, babe.” Wally shut the door behind him the next morning. Dick was picking at the little tub of yogurt Dinah had given him in the process of weaning him off taking his nutrition through the IV.

Wally took his usual seat. “Not hungry?”

Dick shook his head. He scooped up some yogurt and shoved the spoon in his mouth, forcing himself to swallow. As much as looking at the damn thing made him feel ill, there was no way he could get out of this place if he didn’t at least try to go along with Dinah’s ideas.

“Clark told me you’re feeling a little down. What’s up?”

Dick grunted, glaring at his yogurt. Wally sighed and rubbed his eyes. He slumped in his seat.

“I can’t help you if you don’t say anything, okay? I know you’ve had it rough lately, but having to drag everything out of you is getting tiring. Would you please work with me?”

Dick tried another mouthful of yogurt while he gathered his thoughts. “I realised I can’t get used to people caring about me before they’ve learned what I did. The League’s going to find out, either from me or the Joker or if someone on the team slips up. It’s just a matter of when. And I can’t expect to be treated the same when that day comes. I’m going to lose a lot of friends, and sticking around them and soaking up their affection now is just going to hurt me in the long run.”

Wally slipped his fingers around Dick’s wrist and gently squeezed. “Okay, so you can’t control how people react to that. So what? If they’re not at least going to listen long enough to let you defend yourself, they don’t deserve to be near you anyway.”

“Because that’ll be a _great_ comfort when I’m eventually kicked off the team and lose most of my friends. _Thanks_ , Wally.”

“I think I’m becoming allergic to sarcasm, babe. Tone it down a little, would you?”

Despite himself, Dick snorted. “I’ll try.”

“And keep in mind there are people who’ve got your back,” Wally said seriously. “Me, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, Dinah, Artemis… we’re not going to let anybody push you around. Hell, there’s a chance more of the team will come around once they’ve heard what you’ve got to say. You’re not alone in this, love.”

“Love?”

“Shut up. Saying ‘babe’ all the time gets old.”

“So is this going to become a thing? You overuse ‘babe’ until you get sick of it and then move onto even sappier petnames?”

“You love it.”

Heat filled Dick’s face. “Yeah, I do,” he murmured. “You got me.”

Wally cupped Dick’s cheek and leaned over to kiss him. Dick closed his eyes and just… let go. Kissing Wally made him feel like a puddle. Or maybe that was the morphine. He would’ve been quite happy sliding to the floor if Wally hadn’t caught him and set him back against the pillows.

“You slippery dork,” Wally giggled into his ear before capturing his lips again. Wally’s mouth had the ability to distort time, apparently, as:

“Time to come up for air, boys.” Dinah had shown up with a small salad for Dick’s lunch, a few hours after they had begun.

“Ugh.” Dick didn’t feel any more enticed by the salad than he did by the yogurt.

Dinah shoved the bowl into his hand. “Eat it.”

Barry poked his head through the doorway. “Somebody order a pizza?”

“Barry, you’re a god among men,” said Wally.

“Take it outside,” Dinah told them.

Wally kissed Dick on the cheek. “I’ll be back.” He charged out of the room after Barry.

“How are we feeling?” Dinah asked, taking Wally’s now empty seat.

“Better than earlier.” Dick stabbed a piece of lettuce onto his fork, eyeing it with distaste for a moment before folding the whole thing into his mouth.

“Did you want to talk about what was bothering you now?”

“I probably should. I already talked to Wally.” A slice of tomato was his next victim. “I don’t think I can deal with the League right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“They don’t know what I did, but they will eventually.” The salad was easier to look at than Dinah right now. “It just… hurts to be around them when I know many of them won’t be able to stand me later.”

“We’ll help you cross that bridge when we get to it,” Dinah replied. “I promise the League won’t get a chance to draw any conclusions without hearing all the facts first. If anybody chooses to hold it against you after that, it’s not your fault. You’re not the first of us who has…” Dinah glanced at the door. “…resorted to those methods, even if the circumstances are a little different in your case.”

“That… actually helps.”

“I’m glad. Try not to let this worry you, okay? You’ve got people who will fight for you.”

“Yeah, Wally said the same thing.”

“Wally’s a smart kid.”

“What can I say? I’m a sapiosexual.”

Dinah snorted. “I’m not touching that one.”

“You’re a terrible therapist.”

“Aw, you never needed my help figuring out your sexuality.”

“True. I kinda just took it and ran. No soul-searching needed, really. I do that for fun and profit. Except there’s no fun or profit involved in soul-searching, so maybe I should reconsider that.”

Dinah sighed at him. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Hopefully, get me out of here soon.”

“We’ll see. In the meantime, eat your salad. Don’t think you can distract me with conversation, young man.”


	11. Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick comes home from the Watchtower's hospital and Wally comes out to his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am alive and having trouble with chapter titles. Everything is normal again. Our boys may not endear themselves to readers in this chapter, but I felt that their behaviour was understandable given the situation.

Finally being able to return home was almost enough to make Dick burst into tears of relief. Dinah, Wally and a wheelchair took the zeta tube with him from the Watchtower to the Batcave. Alfred and Jason were there to greet him, but Bruce was conspicuously absent.

Alfred gripped his hand tightly, almost the point of pain. . “Welcome home, Master Dick,” he said, nothing but a slight wobble in his voice betraying his emotion. Dick squeezed Alfred’s hand back with what little strength he had.

“Hey, Alfred,” Dick said quietly, already exhausted from the journey. “Hey, Jason.”

“Hey,” Jason replied. He was doing that thing where he hung back and tried to act tough. Dick was having none of that today.

“Get over here and give your brother a hug,” he said. Jason shuffled forward and let Dick pull him in with one arm. Dick’s ribs complained a little at the motion, but he paid them no heed. They were whiny little shits anyway.

Jason pulled back. “I heard you groan.”

“Groan? What groan?”

Jason rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched. Dick’s work was done, and now he really needed to lie down.

“Master Bruce is at work today,” Alfred informed him as he led the group over to the rarely-used elevator. “He should return briefly this evening.” They reached the elevator, and Alfred pressed the button to summon it. “I will make sure he sees you.”

“Don’t bother,” Dick muttered, letting Dinah wheel him into the elevator. Wally raced off to meet him upstairs, while the others squeezed inside. “I don’t want to see him.”

“Sir—”

“He had plenty of chances to see me while I was laid up in the Watchtower,” Dick said irritably. “He didn’t. So screw him.”

“I will make sure he is aware of the situation.” As per usual, Alfred didn’t state his disappointment outright, but it was there in his voice. The elevator doors opened to Wayne Manor before the guilt could settle in Dick’s stomach.

Dinah wheeled him out into the small room, which was hidden behind a door disguised as a bookshelf because why the hell not. Alfred pulled a lever, which opened the door to reveal Wally waiting for them in the adjacent study.

“I was gonna sit in the swivel chair and do a Bond villain impression but—”

“Chicken,” Dick teased.

“Hey!”

“Chicken!”

“You’re such a shit.”

“Don’t swear in front of Alfred,” Dick scolded.

“Sorry, Alfred.”

Alfred, for his part, just shook his head. “Would you like some time to rest, Master Dick?”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Thanks, Alfred.”

“I’ll come by to check on you later,” Dinah said.

“Master Jason, would you escort Madame Dinah back downstairs?”

Jason, without complaint, led Dinah over to the grandfather clock that hid the stairs. Nobody used the elevator unless they had to, or caught a ride with somebody who did.

Alfred took control of the wheelchair—Dick’s injuries rendered him too weak to wheel himself for long—and the three of them headed to Dick’s room. Dick didn’t remember most of the journey; he must’ve nodded off at some point. The next thing he remembered was Wally pulling the bed sheets back in Dick’s room and then helping Alfred support him long enough to get him into bed. The change in altitude made him dizzy. The instant he was horizontal, he kind of just… melted into the mattress.

“Dick’s gained a superpower,” Wally commented, tucking his boyfriend in. “The ability to turn into a puddle at will.”

“I need a theme song.”

“No, sir. You do not. You need to rest.”

Dick deflated further. “Yeah, okay.” He wiggled a little, trying to get comfortable. This bed was softer than he remembered. “My bed is a cloud.”

“Clouds are just water vapour, babe.”

“Don’t crush my dreams.”

“I’ll try to get him to sleep,” Wally murmured to Alfred, who said his goodbyes and departed. Wally skirted around to the other side of the bed, kicked off his shoes and climbed in. “All right, Puddle Boy, let’s try this sleeping thing.”

“You’re too far away. Cuddle me.”

Wally chuckled, sliding closer. “As you wish.”

* * *

Bruce had suffered through several consecutive meetings before he could finally escape to his office and call home to see how Dick was settling in. He had taken too many days off while searching for the Joker, and the guilt had finally pressured him into spending more time doing his official job.

Alfred picked up the phone almost immediately. “Sir, I was about to call.”

That sounded ominous. “What about?”

“Master Dick is settling in as well as can be expected,” Alfred informed him, “but I’m afraid he doesn’t wish to see you.”

“You told me just the other day he—”

“It would seem your window of opportunity has closed,” said Alfred. “I did warn you, sir.”

Bruce sighed and slumped against the window, staring down at the cars idling at a traffic light on the street below. “Okay. I need to fix this.”

“Indeed you do, sir. I would, however, suggest you do not force your company upon him. I cannot imagine that would improve his opinion of you.”

Bruce pressed his forehead against the window. “Then… how?”

“Taking the occasional night off wouldn’t be a terrible place to start.”

“The Joker’s still out there, Alfred. I can’t do that.”

“Very well. Perhaps you could instead start by coming home at a reasonable hour? And, after that, perhaps you could treat the other members of your family with the respect they deserve?”

Ouch. “I’ll work on it.”

“Work quickly, sir. We all tire of your behaviour.” Alfred hung up on him. Bruce remained still for a moment, listening to the beeps that filled the silence. Well, if the rest of the conversation hadn’t been enough to clue Bruce into Alfred’s disgust with him…

Bruce put his phone away. He technically had a few more meetings to survive, but he was sure Lucius could handle them for him. Again. Bruce braved the twinge of guilt that always came when he neglected the company he had inherited from his father, and picked up the landline phone on his desk to give Lucius a heads-up.

Having done that, he made a beeline for the basement and his car. He’d take Alfred’s advice and not force Dick to spend time with him, but maybe Bruce would feel better after checking on him himself. Alfred had passed on any information he heard about Dick’s recovery, but Bruce’s imagination had had to fill in the gaps. His imagination was probably the most morbid damn thing on the planet.

But, Bruce rationalised as he started the car, he’d had a villain to catch. He hadn’t wanted to face Dick empty-handed. He hadn’t even been able to save him from the Joker; Dick had saved himself, which, as much as it made Bruce proud, also made him ashamed the Dick had been forced into that position in the first place. The best thing Bruce could do was put the bastard behind bars again, and he hadn’t even managed that. This whole mess wouldn’t have happened if he’d just found him as soon as he’d escaped.

By the time Bruce reached the manor, he was a vessel filled with self-loathing and blame. He took a moment in the underground garage to take a few deep breaths. He couldn’t take this out on anybody else; he had to get it under control. If only he’d seen that sooner.

Feeling calmer, but not by much, he made his way up to the manor proper. Alfred wasn’t around to greet him, though it was almost a certainty that he knew he was home. Given Alfred’s current displeasure with him, though, maybe it was for the best.

Dick would be resting in his room by now. Bruce wouldn’t stick around if he was unwanted, but looking in on him for a moment couldn’t hurt.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Bruce poked his head inside, holding onto the door so it didn’t creak. The curtains were drawn, darkening the room. Dick was laid up in bed under a thin sheet, the cast on his foot sticking out at the end. There was some writing on it, but Bruce couldn’t make it out from his spot in the doorway. Dick’s face was turned away from the door, his chest rising and falling steadily in sleep. Wally was curled up beside him, his face buried in the younger boy’s shoulder and red hair sticking up in every conceivable direction.

It wasn’t the first time Bruce had caught them asleep together—Wally sometimes came over for the explicit purpose of helping Dick fall asleep on the bad nights—but this time reminded Bruce of the first, after Bruce had told Dick about his uncle’s passing. He and Alfred had checked on them some time after they went to bed to find them cuddled up together.

Bruce… hadn’t been prepared for how much it hurt him. It had nothing to do with Dick’s sexuality or choice of partner. Rather, it served as yet another painful reminder that Dick was growing up. It was a strange thing to feel upset about, since up until a few months ago he’d thought Dick never got a chance to grow up at all. It had been impossible to shake the feeling that Dick was slipping away from him yet again.

Dick had always been a bit of a paradox, really. As Robin, he’d managed to retain his childlike playfulness, but at the same time he’d been exposed to forces that had aged him beyond his years. It wasn’t uncommon to find him writing silly messages with letter magnets on Red Tornado’s back, only to turn around an instant later and rattle off some supremely morbid fact about corpse decomposition. Bruce wasn’t unaware of his hand in this. He still wondered if he’d done the right thing by bringing Dick into vigilantism. He likely always would.

It was harder to tease the old playfulness out of Dick these days. It still burst out of him on occasion, but more often with a sarcastic or menacing edge, depending on whether he was directing it towards a friend or enemy. He’d also retired his trademark cackle. Bruce was a little sad to see that go. He had fond memories of watching criminals panic at the sound.

Dick stirred a little, making Wally groan and burrow his face between Dick’s shoulder and the pillow. They both stilled and fell back into their peaceful slumber. Bruce held back a chuckle and left them to rest. He’d do some more digging and search for the Joker tonight as per usual, but maybe he’d come back a little earlier. Alfred usually kept an eye on the news and the bat signal anyway, so if something big came up he’d know about it, regardless of whether he was out there or at home.

It was about time he started acting like a parent.

* * *

Dick fought consciousness for every inch it dragged him out of sleep, bringing a new layer of discomfort—an itch in his leg below the cast, his mouth feeling like cotton, a twinge in his ribs, wetness on his arm. Wait, was Wally _drooling_ on him? God damn it, now he was definitely awake.

He grudgingly opened his eyes. Wally’s face was pressed against his arm and, yep, that was definitely drool. Dick was used to Wally being gross at least; he watched him eat on a regular basis. So he just sucked it up and lay there while he waited for Wally to wake up. Judging from what little light he could see coming around the curtains, it wouldn’t be long before he would be up and looking for food.

Wally snorted in his sleep, scaring himself awake with a little yelp. Dick laughed quietly, the best he could manage. Wally blinked up at him, whined and shoved his face into the pillow.

“So, you’re done slobbering all over me?” said Dick.

“Wha…?” Wally lifted his head. “Oh. Sorry.” He grabbed a handful of bedsheet and rubbed it over the wet spot on Dick’s arm.

“Never do that in front of Alfred, just FYI.”

“Oh, I know. I’d like to keep my hands.”

“Smart. Now be even smarter and get me some water.”

“I got your water right here, babe.” Wally licked his lips, making an exaggerated slurping sound.

“I’m gonna need my next dose of painkillers before I can put up with this shit,” Dick muttered. “Would you kindly get me a glass of water that is preferably _not_ a bodily fluid so I can get on that?”

“Aren’t you supposed to have your painkillers with food?”

“Right. Yeah. Damn it.”

Wally rolled out of bed. “All right, let’s get you up. It’s got to be nearly dinnertime by now.” Dick untangled himself from the sheets while Wally rolled the wheelchair closer.

Dick had to take a moment to breathe once he sat up, before he let Wally help him into the chair. This weakness was infuriating. Wally wheeled him out of the room and down to the dining room.

The rest of the household was already there, including Bruce. Dick knew exactly what was going on. Bruce had finally figured out he was being an ass again, and yet again that realisation had come far too late.

Wally arranged Dick’s chair in the gap Alfred had made, falling into the chair beside him. “Man, I could eat a whole stable.”

“Mind the splinters,” Dick replied, accepting a plate from Alfred.

“You say splinters, I say toothpicks.”

Jason snorted into his dinner.

“I’m afraid stables are not on the menu tonight,” said Alfred, passing Wally a heaped plate. “Do try to contain your disappointment.”

“For you, Alfie, I will try.”

Dick was strongly tempted to stab him with a fork, but that’s how he felt most of the time at the moment, so it wasn’t exactly a reflection on Wally’s sense of humour. At least Bruce hadn’t tried talking to him yet, because that would definitely result in something or someone getting stabbed.

Dick chose to stab his pasta instead. After a few bites, he took his medication. The table was quiet, and he felt like he should say something, but nothing came to mind.

Bruce finished first, since Wally always went back for seconds. Alfred took his plate away and Bruce sat for a moment longer, draining his coffee cup. His shoulders were rigid, and Dick braced himself for an awkward attempt at conversation.

Bruce set down his cup, cleared his throat and said, “Welcome home, Dick.” He wasted no time in evacuating the premises immediately afterwards.

“Could’ve been worse,” Wally commented, taking a brief break from stuffing his face. Dick scowled at the table.

“I suppose.”

“Chin up, sir.” Alfred placed a large chocolate cake on the table. “Master Bruce will be missing out on dessert. I certainly won’t be saving him any.”

“Does that mean I can eat half of it by myself?” asked Wally.

“Leave Alfred a slice,” Dick replied.

“Eat as much as you like, sir.”

“Aw, you’re gonna make me cry. I love you, Alfred.”

“You love anybody who feeds you,” Jason piped up.

“What can I say? Got a lot of love to go around.” As if to demonstrate, Wally chose that moment to give Dick a kiss on the cheek. Dick elbowed him.

“Dork.”

* * *

Though Dick had been well enough to leave the Watchtower’s hospital, he still had to spend a lot of time lying down. Wally stuck with him as much as possible, but had to skip the occasional day for family commitments. After being absent for three days due to an impromptu camping trip with his dad, Wally showed up in Dick’s room again. He didn’t crack a smile. Something was up.

Dick set his book aside. “How was the trip?”

Wally groaned and threw himself facefirst into the pillow next to Dick. “I hate camping. Dad _knows_ I hate camping.”

“Maybe he just wanted to spend time with you,” Dick said. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with me without telling your parents where you are.”

“Ugh, I know.” Wally rolled onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. “But what can I tell them? They know you’re injured, but if they find out I’m spending so much time with you, they’re going to know something’s up. It’s not like you’re about to die.” He grimaced. “Well, not anymore.”

“Have you given more thought about telling them about us?”

“Yeah. I still don’t know. I guess I’ll have to eventually.”

“You don’t have to, but I’ll come along if you do,” Dick offered. Wally offered him a weak smile.

“Thanks. I don’t think I can do this by myself.” He scooted closer to Dick, lightly resting his forehead against Dick’s bare shoulder—it was hot today, so Dick hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt. “I don’t say this much, but you’ve been lucky. You know, with the whole coming out to your family thing. Bruce _may_ have warned me not to break your heart or anything, but that’s really the worst that’s come of it.”

Dick sighed. “Of course he did. How were the threats?”

“Pretty mild, considering he’s, you know, Batman.”

“Good. I’d be having a few words with him otherwise.” Dick snorted. “That’d get us speaking again, at least.”

“I was kind of hoping you two would’ve made up while I was away.”

“Won’t be long now.” Dick reached for the water on his bedside table; the stretch wasn’t as painful as it used to be. He was slowly regaining his strength. He’d managed to hop to the bathroom unaided this morning, as much as it had drained him.

“How are you sleeping?” Wally asked him.

Dick made a noncommittal noise around a mouthful of water.

“That bad, huh?”

Dick swallowed. “Better, I guess, but still not great.”

“How are the dreams?”

Dick scowled, slamming the glass back on the bedside table. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Wally kissed the crease between his eyebrows, then both his cheeks and, finally, his lips.

“No.” Kiss. “More.” Kiss. “Frowny.” Kiss. “Faces.” Kiss.

Dick broke away for a moment. “Okay, hang on. Haven’t got the upper body strength for this shit.” Dick slid down until his head hit the pillow. “You may now continue.”

“With pleasure.” They had to make up for lost time, after all. Thinking about parents and nightmares could come later.

Later turned out to be at half-past midnight when the two were lying awake. Dick was coming down from another nightmare while Wally rubbed circles into his back. Dick’s ribs were aching, and he was fighting like hell to slow his breaths down. Wally nuzzled his neck.

“I’ll figure out a way to be around more often,” he promised.

Dick had to let out a few more breaths before he was ready to speak. “You don’t have a lot of options.”

“Then maybe I will tell my parents after all.” Wally snuggled closer, sacrificing the backrubs for cuddles. “If they accept me, I can explain why you need me around so much. If they don’t… well, I guess it won’t matter.”

“Wally, that doesn’t sound healthy.”

“You’re more important to me right now, okay?”

“ _Wally_ ,” Dick said through gritted teeth. “You tell them when _you’re_ ready. If you’re not, I’ll cope.”

“But I think I am ready,” Wally replied softly. “As ready as I’m going to get.”

“Okay. Tell me when and I’ll come along.”

“I’ll wait until you feel well enough. I’ve waited this long already. I can wait a bit longer.”

* * *

Wally waited until Dick was strong enough to get around on crutches for more than a few minutes at a time before he finally decided to do it. Barry picked them up at the zeta tube and dropped them off in front of Wally’s house. Dick _probably_ could have made the trip on foot if he had to.

“Give me a call when you’re done,” Barry told them as Wally helped Dick out of the car. “I want to know how things turn out.”

“We will,” Dick replied. Wally was watching his house like he expected it to bite him, so it fell to Dick to shut the car door and wave Barry off.

Wally let out a long breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Dick gave Wally’s hand a squeeze. He would’ve been happy to hold it for longer, but he needed both hands for his crutches. He followed Wally up the path to the door. Wally paused, his hand on the doorknob, and took a deep breath.

“You can do this,” Dick encouraged.

Wally chuckled breathlessly. “Yeah. Okay.” He opened the door. “Mum? Dad? I’m home!”

“Already?” Wally’s dad called from the living room.

“Yeah, and a stray followed me home.”

“Don’t feed him,” Wally’s mother replied, coming out of the kitchen. “He’ll just keep coming back.”

Dick snorted. “You’re all terrible.”

Mr West groaned his way out of his chair. “How’s the leg, Richard?”

“Healing. I might be getting walking cast soon, thank _God_.”

“You’ll be running circles around us in no time. We’re used to it.”

“Until then, why don’t you go sit down and I’ll get you something to drink?” said Mrs West. “What would you like?”

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

Dick and Wally settled themselves in the living room. The conversation appeared to have relaxed Wally a little.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I think we’ll be okay.”

Dick slotted his hand in Wally’s. Mrs West came back with a glass of water for Dick and a can of soda for Wally.

“Hey, Mum, could you get Dad back here?” Wally asked her. “I need to talk to you guys.”

Mrs West took in their joined hands and nodded, her mouth set in a thin line as she turned away to find her husband. Wally deflated a little at the sight.

Dick could hear Wally’s parents in the kitchen.

“Rudy, Wally wants to talk to us.”

There was a clinking sound, probably bottles, and something closing, probably the fridge. “Is he going to explain where the hell he’s been lately?”

“I didn’t ask. Let’s just—oh, give it to me.” There was a popping sound. “There’s your damn beer. Get in the living room. Now.”

“I’m going to regret this,” Wally muttered. Dick gave his hand another squeeze.

“You can still back out if—”

“No. I’m doing it.”

“Doing what, dear?” Mrs West dragged her husband into the room.

“Okay. Uh. Well.” Wally cleared his throat. “The thing is… I mean… ugh. Let me start over.” Wally held up his and Dick’s entwined hands. “Dick and I are together. Dating. In a relationship.”

Mr West frowned. “Since when?”

“Since about two months ago,” Dick answered; Wally was catching his breath.

“And this is why you’ve been spending so much time away from home?” Mr West addressed his son.

“Uh, partially?” Wally replied. “Dick’s been going through some bad stuff and—”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time over there.”

The collective weight of the room seemed to _drop_. The silence rang in Dick’s ears, until Wally finally broke it.

“Wh—what do you mean, Dad?”

“You’re confused,” said Mr West.

“Rudy,” Mrs West warned.

“You haven’t dated anybody since Artemis, and getting your best friend back confused you.”

“Dad, no. I’m not confused. I’ve felt this way for years.”

“Just Dick? Or have there been other boys?”

Wally scowled at him. “I am _so_ not answering that. Why can’t you just accept what I’ve told you?”

“Wally, you’re still young,” Mrs West tried interjecting while Rudy chugged half his beer in a matter of seconds. Dick hoped he hadn’t had much to drink before that. He was already unsettled by the conversation as it stood right now without Wally’s father losing his brain-to-mouth filter. Or, heaven forbid, his brain-to-fist filter.

“Are you saying I’m too young to know what my sexuality is?” Wally said to his mother. “You never said that when you thought I was straight.”

“Mary, you’re not helping. Go get me another beer.”

“Is there something wrong with your legs?”

“Just get back in the kitchen!”

Mrs West threw her hands up and left.

“That was rude,” Dick commented.

“No, what’s _rude_ is turning my son gay.”

“I didn’t turn him anything,” Dick said calmly. He half-wanted to just get up and walk out right there and then, but he’d leave it up to Wally to decide when enough was enough.

“And I’m not even gay,” Wally added. “I’m bisexual.” He was doing a surprisingly good job at staying calm, but his hand was vibrating in Dick’s grip. It wouldn’t be long before he hit his limit.

“Do you honestly expect people to take you seriously when you tell them that?” said Mr West.

“It’d make a nice change!” Wally burst out.

“Don’t you take that tone with me.”

“I’ll stop taking that tone with you when you stop being a jerk about your own kid’s sexuality,” Wally shot back.

“You are _my_ child, living in _my_ house. I won’t tolerate my kid turning into a goddamn f—”

“Can you not, thanks?” Dick cut in. “Seriously, this is like a scene out of a bad fanfiction.”

“Do you talk to your father like that?”

“Well, one of them’s dead and the other one accepted my sexuality without batting an eye, so no. I don’t have to.” He neglected to mention he and Bruce weren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. It wasn’t really relevant.

Mr West took a calming breath. “Look, Wally, you have to understand where I’m coming from here. I can’t go into work and tell them I have a gay son.”

“Who said you have to tell them? And I’ve already said I’m not gay.”

“Use the word he gave you,” Dick backed him up. “Bisexual. If the word’s too big to fit in your mouth, you can always go with bi.”

“I can’t tell them—”

“Then _don’t tell them_!” Wally yelled. “How hard is that to understand? I don’t need you shouting it from the rooftops. I just want you to accept it and stop acting like I’ve done something shameful.”

“You’ve poisoned him,” Mr West said to Dick. “You took my son and you _poisoned_ him.”

Wally stood up, letting go of Dick’s hand. “Are you even listening to me?! Dick did _nothing_ to me. He wasn’t even around when I realised I’m bi. None of this is his fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault because it’s not a bad thing,” Dick pointed out. If it weren’t for his leg, he’d be standing right beside Wally right now.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Mr West said to Dick. “You’ve done enough damage to my son.”

“Rudy!” Mrs West was back. “You can’t just kick the poor boy out of the house. How is he supposed to get home?”

“Not my problem.”

“Oh, really?” Wally snapped. “If he goes, I go.”

“You are not leaving this house, young man.”

“What are you going to do?” Wally held his arms out, as if inviting his dad to hit him. Dick was on the edge of his seat, ready to get between them if he had to. “Stop me from leaving? Lock me in my room until I turn straight? Because I’m pretty sure that’s child abuse.”

“Fine. Fine! Leave.”

Wally’s face went blank. “What?”

“You want so badly to sodomise this fucking fairy, you can do it somewhere else. Not under my roof.”

“Dad—”

“Mary, help him pack.”

“I think you need to calm—”

“ _Do as I say_.”

Wally held a hand out to Dick. “I’m not leaving you down here with him.”

Dick glanced at the few stairs behind him that he could see from his position. “I’ll take too long to get up there. Just go.”

“Good,” said Mr West, “because you and I are going to have a little talk of our own.”

“Mr West, I’ve been tortured and murdered by one of the most frightening human beings I’ve ever met. There’s nothing you can do that will scare me.” Perhaps it was a sign of the seriousness of the situation that the usual sick feeling that came with talking about what happened to him was utterly absent.

Mrs West pulled Wally away and up the stairs. Dick pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Barry,” Dick replied calmly, finding his name in the contacts. “If you’re hoping to find allies in him and Iris, you’re out of luck. They found out about Wally and me when I was still laid up in hospital.” He pressed the call button. Barry picked up instantly.

“Hey, Dick. Everything okay?”

“Not really. Wally’s getting kicked out. Can you come pick us up?”

“I’m on my way now. See you in a few.” Barry hung up.

Dick slid the phone back into his pocket. “Any questions, Mr West?”

“You’ll pay for what you did to my son,” Mr West snarled.

Dick made a performance out of rolling his eyes. “Oh, get some new material. I’m flattered you think I have the power to twist boys’ minds, but it’s starting to wear a little thin. If you cared about your son that much, you wouldn’t be making him leave home, would you?”

“How else am I supposed to teach him a lesson?”

Dick cackled like he was thirteen-years-old again and scaring the crap out of some thugs. “What lesson? Don’t end up in relationships that fall outside a narrowly-defined norm? Don’t trust your parents? Adults are a disappointment and you should get used to it, kid?”

Mr West loomed over him in a poor imitation of one of Batman’s favourite intimidation tactics. “I’ve had just about enough of your smart mouth.”

Dick gazed coolly up at him. “Are you going to hit me, Mr West?” He let a small smirk creep onto his face. “I wouldn’t advise it. Bruce has an excellent team of lawyers. While you’re at it, I wouldn’t advise telling anybody about my secret identity, either. The list of people who are privy to that information is remarkably short, and it wouldn’t take us long to trace any leaks back to you. I’d hate to have to discredit you and destroy your life in order to protect myself and my family.”

“And how would you do that?”

“You’d be surprised at what I can do with a laptop and a cup of coffee on a Sunday morning,” Dick replied. Mr West was sneering at him, but he’d also taken a small step back. Dick had won a small victory, though the satisfaction was fleeting.

Wally stomped down the stairs, carrying a sports bag over his shoulder. His eyes were a driftwood fire as he threw the bag on the floor beside the front door.

“You’re a terrible father, you know that?”

Mrs West hurried down the stairs. “Wally…”

“Stop making excuses for him!”

“Barry’s on his way,” Dick cut in.

“Good. I’ve had it with this place.”

“Wally, Rudy, please.”

“Wallace needs to learn there are consequences for his actions, Mary,” Mr West said, puffing himself up like he was giving an important speech. Wally looked about ready to explode. Dick reached for his crutches and pulled himself up. He had to shoulder Mr West out of the way to get to the door.

Luckily, Barry chose that moment to show up without bothering to knock. “I could hear you all from the curb. So it’s true, then?” He scooped Wally’s bag up off the floor. “You’re kicking your own son out of the house?”

“I’m not wasting my time on you,” Mr West replied rudely. “You’ve done nothing but encourage him.”

“Damn right I have. Let’s go, boys.”

Wally was dead silent all the way to Barry and Iris’ house. Dick tried to hold his hand, but Wally crossed his arms and stared out the window instead. Dick let him have his space.

Wally took off into the house the instant the car pulled into the driveway. Dick manouvered his way out of the backseat while Barry was busy with the bag.

“Hang on, Dick. I’ll give you a hand in a sec.”

“It’s fine, Barry. I got this.” The hardest part was getting the damn crutches out with him, but he handled it just fine.

“I should give Iris a call,” Barry said as he and Dick entered the house.

“I’ll check on Wally,” said Dick. “Just put the bag on me.”

“I don’t feel right using a kid with broken bones as a packhorse.”

“It’s fine. Do it.”

“God, no. I’ll just leave the bag outside his door for him to grab later.” Barry put it by the door and left Dick to knock.

“Hey, Wally. Can I come in?”

“I… yeah. I guess.”

Dick turned the doorknob and pushed the door open with enough force for it to keep opening on its own while he propelled himself through on the crutches. “Barry left your bag just outside.”

Wally was sitting on his bed to the right of the room, facing the window on the centre wall. “I’ll get it in a sec.” He wiped his eyes.

Dick lowered himself onto the bed next to him, setting the crutches aside. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Wally wiped his eyes again, hard enough that it made Dick wince. He finally turned to face him with red-rimmed eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Did you want to talk about it?”

“I…” Wally sighed. “I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t your fault either, you know.” Dick held out his hand. This time, Wally took it.

“Yeah, I… I know.” Wally sighed again. “Mum said some things to me while she was helping me pack.”

Dick didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of things?”

“Like I wouldn’t have to leave if I just let Dad win.” Wally looked at the floor, the walls, the window, anywhere but Dick. “She said if I broke up with you and took everything back, she could convince Dad to let me come home.”

“That… doesn’t sound like a healthy living situation.”

“Babe, no offense, but what would you know about healthy living situations?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Dick said evenly, “because I know I’ve said some shitty things to you when I’m upset. What I _am_ worried about, though, is that it sounds like you’re actually considering it.”

“Can you blame me?” Wally snapped. “I can go home. All I have to do is—”

“Break up with your boyfriend and stuff yourself back in the closet,” Dick finished for him. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, it works. Your dad lets you come home. What exactly is going to stop him from locking you up anyway, or sending you off to one of those gay conversion therapy programs?” An opportunity had arisen a few years ago for Dick to go undercover in one, but Bruce had balked at the idea. Dick imagined Bruce would be even less inclined to put him in that situation these days now that he knew Dick was pansexual.

“Then I guess I won’t be living with my parents, will I?” Wally replied. “I’ll end up back here and we can just pretend it never happened.”

“Wally, I’m not a toy you can toss aside and pick back up again whenever it’s convenient for you. You break up with me, and that’s it.” Dick jerked his hand away. “I don’t want to come between you and your family, but I’m not going to let you jerk me around, either.”

“Okay, we don’t have to actually break up. We could just—”

“Pretend to? And how exactly would we see each other? Do you think your dad is going to let you go anywhere I might be, including Mount Justice? Or respect your privacy enough to not look through your phone?”

“Damn it, Dick. Do you have to be so negative?”

“I’m just pointing out the truth, Wally. Going back home will _suck_.”

“And how do you know that? Or are you just trying to stop me from breaking up with you?”

Dick very charitably chose not to mention that Wally had chosen to come out to his parents so they could spend more time together when they, mostly Dick, needed to. It sounded selfish even inside his head.

Instead, he gathered up his crutches. “Fine. Do whatever.”

“Dick—”

“Obviously talking to me isn’t helping, so I’m just gonna get out of your hair.” Dick pushed himself to his feet… well, foot. “Do I want you to break up with me? Of course not. I’ve said my piece. I’m not going to stick around and be your punching bag.”

“Isn’t that a little hypocritical? And selfish? I’ve stuck with you through _hell_ , Dick.”

“So you want me to stick around while you decide whether or not you’re going to break up with me to please your parents? But _I’m_ the selfish one here?”

“I don’t know, dude, but you do have some serious abandonment issues.”

“Thank you _so much_ for bringing that up. I didn’t realise I had serious abandonment issues! Now I have seen the light.”

Wally dropped his head into his hands.

“Is it honestly that hard to understand why I don’t want to be around you while you’re deciding whether you care more about your parents’ approval than you do about me?” The instant the words were out of Dick’s mouth, they sounded utterly terrible. “Okay, that was a bad way to phrase it. I just…” Dick let out a sigh, officially joining the huffy lung club for today, and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to come between you and your family, okay? Really, I don’t. And I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to stick around while you work through this.”

Wally lifted his head. “Okay, look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“Apology accepted, but I’m still leaving unless you can come up with a damn good reason for me to stay.”

Wally didn’t speak. Dick stubbornly ignored the lump in his throat.

“Okay,” he managed around the lump. “Bye, then.”


	12. Facing the Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Wally try talking again, Bruce and Dick reconcile, and Dick finally talks to the team about what the Joker told them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied self harm while Dick's talking to the team.

Dick turned down Barry’s offer to drive him to the zeta tube. He couldn’t trust himself not to burst into tears in the car. He was well and truly out of breath by the time he reached and took the zeta tube to the Batcave, but Bruce was at the computer and Dick had forgotten where he’d stashed the wheelchair. The only concession he made was to take the elevator instead of the stairs, ignoring Bruce when he said something he didn’t quite catch anyway.

He ran out of steam about halfway to his room, semi-healed ribs screaming at him as his breaths came in short gasps. He dropped the crutches and collapsed against the wall, finally sliding to the floor. Someone would find him eventually, though he’d rather it be later rather than sooner since his eyes were watering. A lot.

Okay, he was crying. Damn it, he was crying in the middle of a hallway _on the floor_ where anybody could find him and he was too tired to move. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how ridiculous he must have looked when Bruce showed up with the wheelchair.

Bruce set Dick’s crutches on the back and wordlessly helped Dick into the chair. Dick was grateful for the silence. Bruce wheeled him back to his room, at which point Dick had gotten himself under control. His ribs still hurt and his breathing remained uneven, but at least he’d gotten a handle on the bawling for the moment. Exhaustion had overridden everything else.

“I’ll be fine,” he told Bruce before the man could get a word in. “Just writing cheques my body can’t cash again.”

Bruce helped him out of the chair and sat him on the edge of his bed. “Did you… want company?”

“Not right now.”

“I’ll check on you later, then,” Bruce promised. “Get some rest.” He left him alone.

Dick tugged off his one shoe and lay down, letting his body uncoil. He didn’t have the energy to go through the rather annoying process of taking his pants off with the damn cast on his leg. He compromised by taking his shirt off and throwing it away from him, not much caring where it landed. Alfred would understand; he’d been cutting Dick a lot of slack on account of his injuries lately. It was rare that Dick had both the energy and range of motion to clean up after himself.

Strangely enough, setting his mind on the logistics of cleaning up after oneself actually helped him calm down a bit. Wally would have a field day if he…

Dick curled up into an angry little ball. He was too tired to deal with this shit right now. Rest first, worry later.

* * *

The nap sucked, but apparently it was enough for his body to decide he wasn’t allowed to sleep later that night. Initially, he busied himself with reading Batman’s most recent case notes and making connections. But at about one in the morning, his brain decided it didn’t want to play ball anymore, so he took out his frustrations by playing one of those ‘infect the world and kill everybody’ games. It was cathartic, in a way, except trying to infect Madagascar was a nightmare because they kept closing their seaport.

“Careful Alfred doesn’t hear you cussing like that.” Bruce poked his head through the doorway.

“I think Alfred’s decided to stop telling me off for anything until I’m all healed up,” Dick replied, quitting the current game. Once Madagascar closed that port, it was all over.

“He never gives me a free pass when I’m injured.”

“Because it’s usually your fault.”

“Ouch.” Bruce kicked off his shoes and sat beside Dick on the bed, putting his feet up. “What are you playing there?”

“Pandemic. I’m trying to infect the world with a deadly disease, but they keep figuring out what’s happening before I can introduce it to every country so there’s no escape.”

“Sounds morbid. How does it work?”

“Eh, it’s pretty simple. See.” Dick started a new game, and explained the mechanics. He chose the parasite this time because the virus kept getting noticed too quickly. “This’ll be boring. I’m employing the ‘slow and steady wins the race’ tactic.”

“I’ve got time.”

“Okay, then.” Dick went into the evolution panel and removed the symptoms. He’d add them again later. He set everything the way he wanted and put the game on the fastest speed.

“Barry told me what happened. I’m sorry things got so out of hand.”

“I told Wally’s dad I’d destroy his life if he blabbed about my secret identity, so I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that at least.”

“I might pay him a visit myself.”

“A stern phone call will get the point across, I think.”

“How’s Wally taking it?”

“Not well.” Dick slowed the game so he didn’t have to babysit it while having this conversation. “His mum told him he could come home if he broke up with me and went back in the closet. I think he’s seriously considering it. I… could have handled it better than I did, really. We fought about it.”

“And that’s why you were upset.”

“Yeah.” Dick rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “It was a stupid thing to get upset about. I should’ve been calmer.”

“Maybe, but your reaction was understandable. You’ve come to rely on Wally.”

“I’ve got to rely on somebody, and you and I fight way too much for it to be you.”

“I’m aware,” Bruce grumbled. “You two should talk tomorrow—well, today—when you’ve both cooled down.”

Dick snorted. “Of all the people to be giving relationship advice…”

“Let’s… just get back to the game.”

“Yes, sir.” Dick sped the game up again. “Oh, hell yes! Got Madagascar!”

* * *

Dick’s phone rang halfway through lunch the next day. Wally’s name popped up on the screen. Normally, Dick would’ve left the room to answer it, but he was stuck in the wheelchair today and didn’t feel up to dragging himself away from the table.

“Excuse my manners, Alfie,” he said, answering the phone. “Hello, stranger.”

“Uh, hey. You busy?”

“Just for the moment. Why?”

“I wanted to talk to you about, you know, stuff. Didn’t want to do it over the phone.”

That sounded ominous. “Did you want me to come over?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“I’ll get over there as soon as I can. I’ll need a ride from the zeta tube. I’m stuck in the chair today.”

“Shit, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just pushed myself a bit too much yesterday.”

“Barry said you wouldn’t let him drive you. That’s not the smartest thing you’ve done, Dick.”

“I didn’t feel like being cooped up in a car. Don’t worry about it.”

Wally’s eyeroll was practically audible. “I’ll ask Barry to meet you at the tube.”

“I’ll finish up here and get there as soon as I can. Just… don’t hold your breath.”

“See ya.” Wally hung up.

“I could use a hand getting down to the Batcave in a minute,” Dick told Bruce, picking up what was left of his sandwich.

“That can be arranged.”

“Eat your lunch first, sir,” Alfred said. Dick got right on that.

“If things go badly with Wally, I could beat him up for you,” Jason offered.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Jay, but thank you.” Dick polished off his sandwich. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Bruce finished his protein shake and wheeled Dick down to the Batcave. They hadn’t really resolved their outstanding issues, but at least they were talking again. It was unlikely either of them would be able to handle the conversation they needed to have until the Joker was finally found. They were both too raw for that.

“Do you need help on the other side?” Bruce asked as he programmed the zeta tube.

“Barry should be there by now. I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Dick flashed him a smile. It never hurt to be especially polite right after a make-up. He wheeled himself the rest of the way into the zeta tube and waved goodbye before he was whisked away.

Barry’s car was parked at the curb in front of the alleyway that held the zeta tube, which masqueraded as a defunct phone box with the door ripped off. Good thing there was no door, otherwise Dick would’ve been stuck in there without enough room to get the damn thing open. Being trapped in a phone box on account of a wheelchair was, surprisingly, not something that Dick was jumping at the chance to experience.

Getting out of the box was still a trial. Dick accidentally punched the doorway at least three times while trying to wheel himself. By the time he reached Barry’s car, his knuckles were throbbing.

Barry stepped out of the car. “I was about to come and help, but you looked like you were having too much fun.”

“Most fun I’ve had in weeks.” Dick aligned himself beside the car, rolling backwards so there was room to open the passenger side door. “I could use a hand getting into the car, though.”

Barry opened the door. “So, uh, how does this work?”

“I can stand for a bit,” Dick replied. “Just help me hobble over to the seat and I’ll take care of myself from there. The chair’ll fold up and fit wherever you want to stash it.”

Barry pulled Dick to his feet and supported him through his journey to the carseat. Hopping for even that long brought the aches back, but Dick breathed through it as he strapped himself in. He heard some cursing as Barry wrestled with the wheelchair and finally got it in the trunk. He slid the attached crutches into the backseat rather than keep everything together.

Barry fell into the driver’s seat, sighing. “That was an adventure.”

Dick snorted. “A little adventure never hurt anyone.”

Barry started up the car. “Says the kid in a wheelchair.”

“That… is a good point.” Dick flinched at the sound of a car horn behind them. The car it came from streaked past them, narrowly avoiding a car on the other side of the road.

“And that’s why I normally run places.” Barry pulled the car out onto the road properly.

Dick tried to ignore his heart freaking out over the car horn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The road is a magical place.” It would’ve been easier if he hadn’t sounded so breathless. Of all the things to freak him out, it had to be the _car horn_. Fortunately, Barry either didn’t notice or thought he was still breathless from getting into the car.

The trip to the house didn’t take long, or maybe Dick was just comparing it to his crutch-walk home yesterday. Anything seemed fast compared to that. The sooner he healed up, the better. Being stuck in a chair on the bad days and reliant on crutches on the better ones had gotten old.

Barry pulled into the driveway. Wally got up off the doorstep when he saw them, and was at Dick’s door before Barry even turned the engine off.

“Chair’s in the trunk,” Dick told him, undoing the seatbelt. Wally zipped to the back of the car. Dick managed to get the door open and swing his legs out by the time Wally had the chair ready. Wally’d had a lot of practise.

“I just realised the step might give you trouble,” he said, helping Dick out of the car and into the chair.

“It’ll be fine. You can always carry me over the threshold if it’s too much.” Dick threw him a sugary smile. Barry got the crutches out of the backseat and the three of them headed for the front door. The step wasn’t too much of a problem, though Dick got jostled around a little bit and Wally apologised at least five times.

“I’m just glad your room’s not up a flight of stairs here,” Dick commented once he and Wally were finally settled in Wally’s room.

“That’s one advantage to not living with my parents anymore, I guess.” Wally’s voice was dripping with false cheer. Dick was too observant to miss his lack of control over its volume.

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s not go there again.” Wally sat on his bed and gave Dick a weak smile. “None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I wasn’t exactly innocent in that conversation, Wally.” Dick wheeled himself close enough to take Wally’s hand.

“Okay, we were both dicks.”

Dick scowled at him.

“What? We were.” Wally rubbed Dick’s hand between both of his, which was weird since Dick didn’t actually feel cold or anything but whatever. “But you were right. Breaking up with you wouldn’t fix things. It’s not like I can forget my dad’s love comes with a list of terms and conditions. I don’t know how safe I’d be going back there now. Dad’s never abused me or anything, but he also used to think I was straight so…” Wally shrugged. “I’m just sorry it took a fight between us to figure that out.”

“We had to start fighting sometime,” Dick replied. “And Bruce and I are talking again because of it, so it’s not the worst thing that could’ve happened between us.”

Wally snorted, but the humour drained out of him immediately afterwards. “The worst thing’s already happened. I lost you once already. Nearly lost you a second time.”

“But you didn’t,” Dick reassured him. “We’re both still here.”

“Damn, I wish your ribs weren’t fucked up so I could just squeeze the hell out of you.”

“Help me onto the bed and we can cuddle a bit instead,” Dick suggested. Wally pulled him to his feet—well, foot—and helped him hop to the edge of the bed. Dick was able to handle things from there, though he did come close to bashing his cast into the wall.

“Well done, babe. Well done.”

Dick lay down on his back; other positions often got too painful for him after a while, and shifting positions took a lot out of him. “Shut up and cuddle me.”

“Yes, your highness.” Wally wriggled up to him and buried his face in the crook of Dick’s neck. This close, Dick could feel the little tremors rolling off Wally’s body. He couldn’t quite run his hand through the other boy’s hair like he wanted to, so he settled for kissing the spot on his head that he could reach.

It didn’t take long for the tears to show. Dick gripped Wally’s hand tightly and let him get it all out. It was nice to get to be the strong one for a change. Well, not exactly _nice_. Refreshing, maybe. It was hard to find the words to describe it without sounding like an ass.

“I hate this,” Wally eventually sobbed.

“I know,” Dick soothed.

He stayed over that night. Wally still managed to fall asleep first, but awoke a few hours later amidst flailing limbs.

Dick caught his wrist before it smacked into his ribs. “Wally? Wha—?”

Wally sat up, breathing heavily. “Dick?”

“I’m here. You okay?”

“I… yeah.” Wally threw himself back onto his pillow, burying his face in it. “’M fine.”

Dick struggled to sit up himself so he’d be in a better position to rub Wally’s heaving back. “Bad dream?”

Wally grunted into the pillow.

“I’m here if you want to talk,” Dick said gently.

“Don’t want to.”

“Okay, you don’t have to.” Dick stayed up for a bit longer, continuing to rub Wally’s back until he slipped back into sleep. Dick then lay back down, but it felt like he’d barely gotten to sleep himself when the old Joker nightmares were back, with a special guest appearance from the crowbar.

He woke with a half-voiced scream dying in his throat and a stomach full of acid. Wally was petting his hair, whispering comfort into his ear. Dick lay stiff for a few moments, getting his breathing and heartbeat back under control. He eventually felt calm enough to accept Wally’s arms around him.

“Hell of a night,” Dick whispered, fighting hysteria. Wally didn’t need this right now.

“Yeah.” Wally didn’t sound much better. “Which dream?”

“Joker. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Wally’s sigh was enough to communicate both his disbelief and acceptance. Maybe another night they’d feel up to deconstructing the bullshit. Tonight, however, it was probably better just to go back to sleep.

* * *

Dick and Wally didn’t set foot in Mount Justice until Dick had a walking cast and Wally was feeling better about the situation with his parents. He still slipped into melancholy on occasion, but he no longer looked like he’d shake apart at the slightest provocation. Dick’s ribs were mostly healed and he rarely had to use his wheelchair to get around anymore. Both boys were still suffering from nightmares, but they felt better equipped to handle them with each other’s help.

M’gann was already soaring into the room as the pair materialised in the cave. The rest of the team—minus Jason, who was training with Bruce—followed her shortly thereafter. Roy was among then. Questions were written on all their faces, as Dick had expected. This was going to be a long day. Bruce had agreed to turn off the cameras in the living area unless an alarm was triggered or Dick gave him the okay. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted recorded, especially when the League didn’t know the things he was going to have to talk to the team about.

M’gann swooped in for a hug. “You’re back!”

“Be gentle with him,” Wally warned. M’gann stopped herself before she reached Dick.

“I’m mostly healed,” Dick told her. “Hugs are welcome.”

“Okay.” She continued forward and carefully put her arms around his shoulders. “Welcome back.” She floated away to let the rest of the team have a turn.

“Thanks.” Dick accepted a hug from Zatanna, who then made way for Artemis, followed by Raquel. It was probably for the best that Conner didn’t go in for a hug, since he looked a bit too pissed to watch his strength. Roy didn’t look much better, and Kaldur was watching the both of them like he expected he’d have to stop them from doing something stupid.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Roy finally said.

Dick nodded solemnly and motioned for the team to follow him into the living area. He still had a slight limp in his walk, but he was used to overcoming physical challenges. Learning to walk with the cast was just another thing he could add to the list.

“We haven’t seen either of you for ages,” Zatanna said as the team settled themselves in the room.

Wally sat on the arm of the sofa beside Dick. “I had some personal stuff to deal with and Dick was all weird about you guys seeing him in a wheelchair.”

“That wasn’t—” Dick sighed. “Whatever. We’re here now.”

“And it’s about damn time,” Roy said. “I’ve had to put everything on hold for this.”

“Nobody asked you to stick around,” Artemis replied sharply.

“Stop,” Kaldur said before the argument could gather steam. “Richard has agreed to answer our questions. I suggest we do not waste any more time.”

“What exactly did you guys want to know?” Dick asked. He had been dreading this conversation for weeks. He might’ve gotten it over with sooner, had he not been worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the stress on top of his injuries.

“How about we start with _what the hell possessed you to turn into a murderer_?” Roy burst out.

“Getting tortured and killed tends to shift one’s priorities.” Maybe that wasn’t a good way to respond when Roy was obviously upset, but it certainly beat yelling back at him.

“Meaning…?” Conner chimed in, looking utterly unimpressed.

“Ugh, I’ll just tell you everything. Get comfortable.” Dick shifted in his seat, trying to piece the words together in his head. “When Ra’s brought me back using the Lazarus Pit, I didn’t have any of my memories. M’gann reconstructed my memory of what happened right after I came out of the Pit, so I now know that I fought my way out of Ra’s’ base using muscle memory and instinct. I ended up living in a cave nearby while I put my head back together again. The first thing that came back to me was a laugh. The Joker’s laugh.” The memory was still sickening to think about.

“Shit,” Wally breathed. He hadn’t heard Dick’s story before coming back to America, either. It wasn’t something Dick liked to talk about.

“Through that, I remembered how I died,” Dick continued, “which ultimately led me to remembering everything else.” He felt nauseous. “It… wasn’t pleasant.” He shook it off. “I eventually made my way to town where I could sort out what I wanted to do.” He’d skipped a large chunk of events between leaving the cave and getting to town, but it wasn’t something he wanted to share. Ever.

“What exactly did you want to do?” Conner prompted.

“The one thing I had figured out was that I wanted the Joker dead,” Dick said, still fighting to keep calm. There was no way he could keep going if he fell apart now. “I don’t know how much of that was because of what he did to me and how much was the side-effects of the Pit, but I knew I’d had enough of granting him mercy. Originally, that’s all I wanted to do. End the Joker. Everything else to me was secondary. I wasn’t happy when I found out Bruce had let the Joker live, but I gave Bruce the benefit of the doubt and assumed he’d stayed his hand because he thought that’s what I would’ve wanted. I thought I could convince him to change his mind if I came home and talked to him.”

“That… would’ve saved us a lot of trouble,” Wally commented.

“Maybe,” Dick conceded. “Of course, I couldn’t just call him up and say ‘hey Bruce it’s your dead kid’. There’s no way he would’ve believed me. So I did odd jobs that paid cash and saved up to get back to America. I didn’t have any identification and I was obviously young and foreign so it wasn’t easy finding work. I avoided crime as much as I could at first; I didn’t want to deal with that when I wasn’t sure how I wanted to handle criminals anymore. It took a long time to save the money, especially accounting for living expenses. I was getting close after about a year, but…”

Wally heard the tension in his voice. “What happened?”

“I’d been keeping track of developments in Gotham over the internet. That’s how I, uh, found out there was a new Robin.” Dick rubbed the back of his neck. He was glad Jason wasn’t here. He didn’t want him thinking Dick blamed him. “I don’t remember what exactly happened right after that—that’s one of the blank spots I mentioned a while back, M’gann—but I had to replace my computer the next day, so… nothing good.” Dick nearly mentioned he’d also sustained some new injuries during that blackout period. Maybe he’d just tell Wally later. “After that, I didn’t feel like Bruce would listen to me if I talked to him about the Joker. And I started thinking that… maybe… the reason he let the Joker live wasn’t out of respect for my memory.”

“So… what?” said Roy. “You thought your daddy let the Joker live because he didn’t love you enough?”

Dick shrank back in his seat a little; he couldn’t help it. “You had to find the worst possible way to phrase that, didn’t you? Yeah. Okay. Fine. You got me. I was a giant baby with a gun and insecurities big enough to see from the fucking moon. I wish I could say I was mind-controlled, too, but sadly, I was just broken into pieces and trying to rebuild myself from the ground up and I fucked it up I fucked it _all up_.”

Wally’s hand was on his wrist. “Maybe we should continue this later.”

Dick pulled his hand away. “I’m fine. You don’t have to take what I’m saying seriously, Roy. I don’t care. You wanted an explanation and I’m giving you one. There’s no way I can make you understand without killing you and throwing you in a Lazarus Pit so you can experience it for yourself.”

“Pass.”

Dick breathed out his tension. “Anyway, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I sought out a guy the League of Shadows sometimes used when they needed an explosives expert, learned everything I could from him and killed him. I also started taking shadier jobs and cleaning up after myself once I had the money. I needed it if I was going to take the Joker and Batman on by myself.

“It was pretty much a downward spiral from there and I just got angrier and angrier. I returned to Gotham and took a slice out of Black Mask’s drug empire for myself. I wasn’t stupid enough to think killing the dealers would stop it, so I tried controlling the flow myself. That way I was at least able to keep kids away from the business and hopefully stop a few lives from being ruined. And I needed the money to get my other plans rolling. I blew up a number of the shady clubs where the scum of Gotham hang out, mostly ones frequented by Black Mask’s people. I didn’t account for the innocent people in there. A lot of people died even before I moved against Black Mask in earnest.”

“Why Black Mask?” asked Zatanna.

“There aren’t a lot of criminals in Gotham with enough pull to get somebody out of Arkham,” Artemis replied before Dick could. “He broke out shortly after an entire floor in the Sionis building got blown out. I take it that was your play?”

“Saved me having to go into Arkham myself,” Dick replied. “I was also playing Batman at the time. Jason got a minor knee injury the first time they ran into me as the Red Hood, but that was probably for the best. It kept him away for a while. I wanted Bruce to figure out who I was over time, but I didn’t want Jason getting in the middle of things.”

“How noble,” Conner said sarcastically. Dick ignored him; he’d hit his bullshit limit already.

“The Joker kidnapped some of the dealers I controlled to lure me out, along with Black Mask and a few of his people,” he continued. “His trap it might’ve worked if the whole setup hadn’t been a trap for him in the first place. I got the Joker away from Batman when he showed up. Then, the Joker and I had a little… alone time before I went to meet Bruce at the courthouse.”

Dick still couldn’t quite dredge up guilt at the memory of giving the Joker a taste of what had been done to him. He could definitely regret the deaths of the people who hadn’t deserved it, possibly including some of the small-time crooks who got caught up in the action, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret what he’d done to the Joker. Maybe he never would.

“What exactly did you do to him?” Wally asked. His knowledge of that night was limited; he’d never pushed Dick for details.

“I showed him the finer points of creative crowbar usage,” Dick said darkly, “just like he’d shown me.” The team was looking at him like he was a stranger. Wally probably looked the least shocked out of them all, but he’d also been privy to more information than the others.

“Fair enough, I guess,” was all he said.

“I met Bruce afterwards,” Dick continued, reaching for his composure. “He was very… apologetic. Kept going on about me needing help. He was right, of course, but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I don’t know what I wanted to hear, really. We fought and I let him chase me to where I’d stashed the Joker. Bruce assumed I was mad because he didn’t save me from the Joker. He’s always been good at finding ways to blame himself for things. It didn’t even occur to him the reason we were fighting was because the Joker was still alive.”

“But you said Jason becoming Robin was the reason you chose to walk that path,” Zatanna said.

“I didn’t tell him that,” Dick replied. “It wasn’t even about Jason at that point. That had just been a catalyst. I tried to convince Bruce killing the Joker was the right thing to do after all the pain he’d caused, but he was stubborn like always. So I tried to force him into a situation where his only options were either to kill me or let me kill the Joker.”

“I heard you yelling over the comm link,” said Wally. Dick… hadn’t known that. He hadn’t been paying all that much attention to what Bruce had been doing at the time.

“So, you heard?”

“Just your voice, not anything you said,” Wally clarified. “I was telling Bruce I’d saved Jason from the shipping container you’d locked him in. Dick wanted to keep Jason out of the fight,” he added for the others’ benefit.

“You locked him in a shipping container?” asked Conner.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Artemis replied. “How’d Bruce keep everyone alive?” she prompted Dick.

“He sabotaged my gun with a well-placed batarang so the thing backfired on me,” Dick replied. “I’d wired the place with explosives as a Plan B, but Batman threw me out the window and everybody survived anyway, though the Joker definitely came off worse.” That was another thing Dick wasn’t sorry for. He wasn’t about to bother feeling bad for hurting the bastard who hurt him. He had enough guilt to be getting on with.

“Bruce was in touch with me the whole time,” Wally added. “I was the only other person aside from Bruce’s butler who knew what Dick was up to. Bruce had me chase Dick down while he guarded the Joker. And Dick pointed a gun at me. It was a real bonding experience.”

“You’ll recall I let you take it off me,” Dick said.

“You couldn’t bring yourself to mess up my stunning good looks.”

“Nah, I was holding the gun left-handed and had a serious case of the shakes. Your looks had nothing to do with it.”

“Ouch, babe. Ouch.”

“So, that’s it?” asked Conner.

“I let Wally take me back to Wayne Manor and patch me up,” Dick responded. “Things have been a bit rocky, but Bruce let Black Canary in on everything so she could help me. I’ve been in therapy with her since then. Wally’s practically been a second therapist.”

“I bet I could’ve billed Bruce and he actually would’ve paid me.”

“I dare you to ask him.”

“ _You_ ask him.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side, Dick,” Raquel commented.

“You are one scary bastard,” Roy added, with a touch of reverence. Shock and awe seemed to have overridden his anger.

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” said Dick. “Anyway, look, I’m not asking you guys to just accept what I’ve done. There are some things I can’t bring myself to regret, like everything I did directly to the Joker, but I still know what I did was wrong and a lot of undeserving people got hurt. That’s just something I have to live with. If working with me is too much to ask, I’ll leave the team.”

The team shared a few looks that Dick couldn’t quite read, but at least they didn’t seem outright hostile. Finally, Kaldur spoke:

“I think we need time to discuss what we’ve learned today.”

“I understand.” Dick let Wally help him up.

“Do you want me to be a part of this?” Wally asked.

“You know more than we do,” Kaldur replied. “Your contribution would be welcome.”

“Are you okay to get home?” Wally asked Dick.

“I’ll be fine. Let me know when you’ve made a decision.” Dick left the living area and made a beeline for the zeta tube. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried, but there was nothing he could do to change anything now. The best thing he could do was go home, have something to eat and maybe lie down for a bit until he felt a little less ill.

* * *

Wally showed up after dinner to give Dick the update, by which time Dick had already slipped in and out of a doze at least half a dozen times. Wally gently touched the top of Dick’s head, making him jerk fully awake.

“Sorry,” Wally whispered.

“I was half-awake anyway,” Dick murmured, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Any news?”

“You’re still on the team.” Wally kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, careful not to jostle Dick’s bad leg. “Things might be a little weird for a while, though. Pretty hard to connect who you were as Robin with who you were as the Red Hood.”

“And Nightwing’s something completely different again,” Dick added, lying back down with Wally. “Can you stay tonight?”

“Already cleared it with Barry and Iris.”

“Thanks.” Dick hadn’t been thrilled about the concept of handling tonight on his own. He hadn’t talked about everything he went through, but even the things that went unsaid were now haunting him. His internal pendulum was swinging between wanting to sleep until the feelings went away, and running until he left them all behind. Since he couldn’t run yet, that just left sleep, and the memories and feelings had a habit of invading his sleep anyway.

Wally nuzzled the top of his head. Dick wrapped his arms around him and held on tight, squeezing his eyes shut and begging the tension inside him to go away. All the minor aches and pains and irritations throughout his body felt ten times worse than before. His leg was itchy inside the cast and his shoulders ached and his ankle throbbed dully and his wrists felt tight. He was going to lose _his mind_.

Wally gently traced a finger down Dick’s spine, sliding back up once he reached the small of his back to start all over again. “Deep breath through your nose, babe.” Dick let his abdomen fill with air. “Now let it out slowly through your mouth.” Dick released the air in a slow stream. He buried his face in Wally’s shirt and inhaled the scent of his deodorant. A little sharp and not exactly pleasant, but it was Wally’s and that was good enough.

He dozed on and off for the next few hours, long after Wally himself had fallen into a deep sleep. The sick feeling still hadn’t gone away. Dick extricated himself from Wally’s embrace as gently as he could and crawled out of bed.

He grabbed his bathrobe and tottered down to the Batcave. The car was gone, so Bruce was probably still out on patrol. He hadn’t taken Jason with him.

Dick settled himself in the computer chair and brought the system out of sleep mode. There wasn’t much to see; Batman was in the Batmobile, and it looked like he was on his way home. Dick watched the cowl footage anyway. He didn’t know why, but watching Bruce’s gauntleted hands on the steering wheel made him feel better somehow.

The Batmobile roared into the cave and Batman got out. Dick would normally ascribe more interesting adjectives, since Bruce was usually more energetic when getting out of the car. Tonight, however, he just looked tired. Relaxed, but tired.

“What are you doing up?” Bruce asked as he approached the computer, pushing the cowl back off his head.

“Couldn’t sleep. Good patrol?”

“Yes.” Bruce nodded vaguely.

“You look a little worn out for a good patrol.”

“I… ran into the Joker.”

The sick feeling pooled in Dick’s gut. “And?”

“I got him, Dick.” Bruce’s face broke out into a tired smile. “I got him.” He swooped down to capture Dick in a hug. Dick clung to him, powerless to stop the sobs escaping his body. It had been weeks. Weeks of looking over his shoulder. Weeks of frustration. Weeks of anger.

He was so _tired_. Every sob drained him further, until all he could do was lean against Bruce’s solid chest, eyes shut and tears leaking out the corners.

Bruce lifted him into his arms without effort. “It’s all right, boy. I’ve got you.”


	13. Paparazzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is finally freed from his cast, the media gets nosy, Dick and Wally hit a stumbling block in their relationship, and then have their first public appearance as a couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some sexual content in this one, but nothing ultimately comes from it. Pun not intended.

The day Dick could finally take his cast off for good was easily the best day he’d had in weeks, which was actually rather sad when he thought about it. Dinah came to the Batcave to help, but Alfred was the one who loosened the straps and removed it.

“Go easy on your ankle while you’re regaining your strength,” Dinah said. “Don’t try anything fancy yet.”

“I’ll lay off the gourmet dinners.”

Bruce, Alfred and Dinah sighed at him while Jason and Wally snickered. Dick counted his joke as a success.

All the adults discussed appropriate ankle exercises for a while. Dick had heard it all before; this wasn’t his first ankle injury and it probably wouldn’t be his last. That was just how things went in this business. Even Wally had had a few injuries that took time to heal, though healing time was usually measured in days for him, if not hours or minutes.

Dick spent most of the day doing any physical exercise he could. Bruce even let him work on the rings for a little bit as long as Dick got help getting on and off. He probably overdid things a bit and would likely be sore tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Bruce joined Dick during stretches while Jason and Wally were off begging snacks from Alfred. Dick was a little stiffer than he would’ve liked.

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you in the hospital,” Bruce said. He was standing behind Dick, helping him with a quad stretch with the top of Dick’s foot resting on his chest, so it was impossible to make eye contact. That was probably intentional. Dick tried not to feel annoyed by that.

“Water under the bridge, Bruce,” he said lightly. He’d let go of that a long time ago. Bruce had never been good with apologies, so he’d just assumed the fact they were talking again would be the only apology he’d get.

 “I caused you emotional distress because I didn’t take your feelings into consideration,” Bruce continued anyway. Dick swapped legs, hitting Bruce with his foot a little harder than was really warranted.

“Do you ever?” Dick’s tone was still reasonably friendly. As much as this conversation happening now after so much time annoyed him, it was worth at least trying to remain on good terms.

“I deserved that,” Bruce admitted. “You’re wobbling.” He pushed Dick’s leg down. Dick turned around to face him, shifting weight onto his good leg.

“Look, I accept your apology. I know you didn’t mean to be a jerk. That’s a good place to stop.” Dick still didn’t feel up to having a long, serious conversation on Bruce’s parenting abilities. Maybe he’d never be capable of lasting through that conversation. Dick made his way to the parallel bars, taking his time chalking up his hands. “I know you mean well. Anything beyond that is inviting an argument neither of us will win.” This conversation was making him feel tired.

Bruce put a hand on his shoulder and was silent for a long time. Dick slowly rubbed his chalky palms together, not knowing what else to do.

“I’m not good at this,” Bruce said at last. “I’m sorry.”

Dick didn’t trust his voice to remain steady, so he stayed quiet.

“Go get some rest,” said Bruce. “We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

Dick managed to find a shred of his old humour. “Are we celebrating my leg?”

“Yes, we are celebrating your leg.”

“We never go out for dinner when _I_ get hurt,” Jason said from the doorway. He and Wally had their hands full of cookies.

“Maybe you haven’t been hurt badly enough,” Dick replied. “I could break your leg if you like.”

“I’m good.” Jason stuffed a cookie in his mouth and walked away. Bruce patted Dick’s shoulder, eyes warm, and left the gym himself. Nothing had really been resolved between them, but Dick couldn’t see a way out at this point. At this point, it was better to put it all behind him.

Wally held out a cookie. “Celebrating your leg sounds like a worthy occasion.”

“Obviously.” Dick took the cookie, chalky hands be damned, and slipped past Wally to head for the stairs. “I’m gonna soak in a bath until the water’s cold and/or it’s time to go.”

“I’d ask to join you but Bruce would probably castrate me,” Wally called after him.

“Good, because I’d say no anyway.”

“You hear that sound, Dick? That’s the sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces.”

Dick stepped especially hard on the floor with his good foot. “Oops. A million and one now.”

“You’re my favourite asshole and I love you.”

“I love you too, loser.”

* * *

Bruce had picked out an expensive French restaurant for their outing. The combined efforts of the family, plus Wally, persuaded Alfred to join them. Dick was pretty sure telling Alfred his leg would miss him sealed the deal.

“This is weird,” Wally whispered to Dick. Everybody was seated at a table by the window. Bruce, naturally, had taken the seat with the best view of both the doorway and said window. Dick had pulled the injury card to get the second-best seat right next to him.

“Hmm?” Dick looked up from his menu.

“I’m not used to dressing up just to eat food,” Wally admitted. “Iris’ll kill me if I drop anything on this shirt.”

“Alfred’s the master of stain removal,” Dick assured him. “You’ll be fine. Just try to eat like a normal human, ‘kay?”

“I’ll try. Bruce is paying for this, right?”

“Of course. Eat as much as you like.”

“Those are dangerous words to say to me.”

“Eat as much as you like within reason, considering we’re out in public,” Dick rephrased. Wally pouted. Dick would’ve kissed him if they were alone. Instead, he nudged Wally’s leg with his knee before going back to reading the menu.

Dick felt strangely free, even though he was stuffed in a suit and sitting in a snooty restaurant. He hadn’t been out in the city since he’d been injured. He’d only left the manor to visit Wally and the team _very_ occasionally. He hadn’t been well enough to leave the house much and it had been easier to just avoid Gotham rather than come up with an explanation for his injuries.

“You could feed a neighbourhood for the prices these guys are asking,” Jason grumbled.

“I’m hosting a charity gala at the manor next week,” Bruce said placatingly.

“You know I only put up with those things because the money goes somewhere useful. And the food’s good.”

“I know, Jason.”

Dick had enough memories of getting his cheeks pinched by tipsy old ladies to understand Jason’s pain. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now that he was older. Except now he’d be expected to bring a date, which was absolutely not going to happen unless he and Wally decided to come out to the public.

Dick wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, it could make going back to school an uncomfortable experience and being slammed by gossip columnists was never a fun experience. But, on the other hand, recent strides towards equality did indicate a shift in public opinion. So maybe the main issue was whether Wally would be okay with being dragged into the public eye as somebody other than Kid Flash.

The waiter who took their orders spoke in an affected French accent and sported a skinny moustache that looked like it had been drawn on. Dick hid his amusement at all the pretence, however, as he was a performer at heart. Wally and Jason looked a bit too intimidated to find the humour, while Bruce and Alfred were simply used to it all.

Chowing down on the basket of sliced breadstick helped Wally relax a little. Dick listened to the string quartet. This made a nice change from being cooped up in a few select locations, dragging around a cast and a cloud of exhaustion. Everybody would’ve been more comfortable at a family restaurant or a burger joint, but places like this had their own charm. The exclusivity of the venue meant it was unlikely somebody would come bother them or snap an unwanted picture. That was part of why this restaurant was so expensive: they kept the press out. It was next to impossible to even get a table in this place unless you were somebody like, say, Bruce Wayne.

The one downside to being out tonight was that Dick and Wally had to keep an invisible wall of heterosexuality between them. The look Wally gave Dick over the plate the waiter placed in front of him made it very clear they would be making up for that later. Dick couldn’t stop himself from shivering a little, but Wally was the only one who noticed.

“Dick, about the gala…” Bruce said, picking up his knife and fork.

“Yes?”

“Will you be bringing a plus one?”

Dick and Wally exchanged an indecisive glance. “Can I get back to you on that?” Dick asked. Bruce nodded at him before he dug into his dinner.

Near the end of dinner, Bruce frowned out the window, where the bat-signal was shining into the sky. He pressed a button on his watch that would send the Batmobile out and requested the bill. Dick didn’t need to ask whether he’d get to come along; there was no way Bruce would let him go until he proved he was fit for the field. Tonight, however, that didn’t bother him, as he was keen to go home and get Wally back for all the smouldering looks he had been throwing at him.

The five of them stepped out into the cool night air. Dick was ready to hop in the car and get out of here, but the swarm of paparazzi nearby killed that plan for the moment.

Bruce had that face he got sometimes when he was trying very hard to not roll his eyes, but it was gone in an instant and replaced with a camera-ready smile. Dick followed his lead while Alfred went on ahead with Jason to get the car. Dick and Wally were closer to the cameras, so they couldn’t slip away with them. Things got worse when Vicki Vale of all people showed up.

“Long time no see, Vicki,” Dick said with forced cheer. “Did you do something with your hair?”

“Old news, kid,” Vicki said. “What _isn’t_ old news is this lovely young man over here.” Wally looked briefly terrified at being addressed, but he covered it pretty well.

Bruce stepped in. “Vicki, it’s late.”

“This won’t take long,” Vicki assured him. “You see, dear Richard, I have a source that tells me you and—Wally, is it?—are an item now.”

“A _source_ , huh?” said Dick. The list of people who could be said source was very short. Wally was watching him uncertainly. Dick took that to mean he was leaving it up to him.

“Care to comment?” Vicki prompted. Bruce’s hand was on Dick’s shoulder, a reminder that he could always walk away.

“Wally and I are an item,” Dick chose to reply. He noticed the car pulling up to the curb out of the corner of his eye. “Nice seeing you again, Vicki.” He grabbed Wally’s hand and headed for the car, pretending not to notice the camera flashes.

“I guess you’ll be taking a plus one to that gala thing after all,” Wally said as they climbed into the backseat.

“I guess I will.” Dick strapped himself in. “Let me know if anybody gives you shit for this.”

“I’m almost terrified to think of what you’d do to anybody who did,” Wally said. Alfred pulled away from the curb.

“Nothing too terrible,” Bruce chimed in. “Drop us off down there, Alfred.”

Alfred pulled into a quiet side-street to let Bruce and Jason out, and then drove Dick and Wally home. Wally’s hand ghosted over Dick’s thigh. Dick grabbed the offending hand; he didn’t need any more encouragement. Wally went back to practicing his smoulder on Dick instead, until Dick shoved his face away.

Getting home at last was a damn blessing. Alfred shooed the boys off to bed, not that they’d been planning to stay up anyway. It was only through sheer force of will that Dick kept himself off Wally long enough for them to brush their teeth and change into pyjamas.

The instant they fell into bed, however, all bets were off. Wally’s mouth was hungry on his. Dick missed his pillow and nearly slipped off the bed. Wally laughed into his mouth. Dick bit his boyfriend’s lip in retaliation, but Wally just moaned and slid his tongue inside.

This was the first time in weeks they could touch each other without having to worry about Dick’s frailty, or the goddamn cast that got in the way of _everything_. They were both starved, and they tore at each other to get their fill.

Their hips rolled together and Wally pressed Dick down hard into the mattress. Dick had a brief moment of distraction when he realised the slurping was actually really disgusting to listen to, before he was dragged back in by the pressure of Wally’s vibrating body.

It was in the moment when Wally was kissing down his neck that Dick felt it against his thigh. Wally was hard. A thrill of panic ripped through Dick’s body and he shoved Wally away. His back hit the headboard in his rush to sit up.

Wally sat back on his heels, head tilted in the dark. “What just happened?”

“It’s—I…” Dick cleared his throat, reaching for his composure. “You’re, um…”

Wally looked down at his erection. “Oh. Right.”

“D-did you need to go take care of that?” Dick wanted to smack himself for letting his voice shake that badly.

“Nah, it’ll go down in the minute.” Wally crawled up the bed and slumped onto his back at Dick’s side. “Unless you wanted to get rid of me. You okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Did you want me to go?”

Dick nodded. He was calm enough now to mentally chastise himself for freaking out. It was just _Wally_ , for Christ’s sake.

Wally rolled off the bed. “You know where to find me, okay?” He turned away so Dick didn’t have to watch him adjust himself, and then left the room. Dick came close to punching the wall. God, he was pathetic. Their first real chance to have some quality time together in so long and Dick freaked out because Wally got excited.

God damn it.

* * *

Dick spent most of the following day reading textbooks by the window in his room. School would be starting back soon so he did need to refresh a few things, especially state-sanctioned history that left out all the interesting and embarrassing bits of the past, but it also gave him an excuse to avoid everyone else. He was still frustrated by what happened last night, but tried to push it to the back of his mind. He did that a lot, probably more than even Wally realised. It was the only way he could function half the time.

Dick was able to get a few hours of peace before Wally finally showed up with a plate of sandwiches. “You missed breakfast. And lunch.”

“Wasn’t hungry.” Dick turned the page.

“Can I come in?”

“Go ahead.”

Wally sat down at the other end of the window seat, passing Dick a sandwich. “Can we talk about last night?”

Dick ate the sandwich before replying. “I guess.”

Wally fiddled with the lace curtain for a bit before he spoke again. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry I freaked out.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” Wally shoved a sandwich in his mouth and passed another one to Dick. “Is there anything I can do to stop it happening again?”

Dick shrugged, yet again using the sandwich to stall his response. “Don’t stab me with your penis?”

Wally snorted. “Look, I was just… if there was something important you needed to tell me, you would, right?”

“When and if I was ready to, yes.”

“I guess that’ll have to do,” Wally murmured. “We could tone things down a bit until you’re ready for more, if you think that’d help?”

“Maybe. Thanks.” Dick was grateful Wally didn’t push for information. He didn’t want to talk about it. Ever, if he could help it.

“You’re not in a social mood, are you?”

“Not really.”

“Did you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’ll just sit here and eat all your sandwiches.”

Dick finally looked up from his book. “Alfred made those for me?”

“He might’ve.” Wally grinned and tore another sandwich apart. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I could drop you in one move if I felt like it.”

“I know.” Wally didn’t sound worried. “I also know you don’t actually care that much.”

“True. Keep them coming and we’re good.”

“Yes, sir.” Wally surrendered another sandwich. “Sooo, I’m your date to Bruce’s party thing now?”

“You don’t have to come,” Dick said quickly. “They get pretty boring. But there’s food and classy dancing so it’s not all bad.”

“You have to go, haven’t you?”

“I’m still the miracle kid,” Dick replied. “I haven’t been seen much since I came back. It’s starting to look weird that nobody ever sees me in the city.”

“In that case, I’ll be happy to suffer along with you.”

That made Dick smile. “That’s very sweet of you, Walls. I hope you still feel that way next week.”

“I keep my promises, babe, especially when I make them to you.”

Dick had to laugh at the turn this conversation had taken. “Lay it on any thicker and you’ll put me in a sugar coma.” Wally didn’t look incredibly offended, so he figured he hadn’t hurt his feelings.

* * *

The charity gala snuck up on them just when they’d gotten comfortable with going public with their relationship. The tabloids had run their stories and the responses, on the whole, had been positive. Alfred had let them perform a ceremonial burning in the fireplace of the handful of negative stories because fuck those guys.

This particular fundraiser was for lower-income school districts. Their buildings were falling apart and needed repair—some needed to be replaced outright—and they couldn’t afford to do that with the pittance they received in government funding. Bruce had offered to help. He’d promised to match the funds raised personally so, really, the fundraiser was only half of the action. It was difficult to get the socialites to do much of anything unless it was tied to their reputation, hence the need for the gala in the first place. Nobody wanted to look like they’d been snubbed by Bruce Wayne.

Basically, Bruce was using the ridiculous social structure of the upper class socialites to get something useful done. Dick never failed to find that amusing, and it made the parties more palatable for Jason, who was acutely aware of the difference between the social classes in terms of wealth distribution. Dick couldn’t blame him. So if this publicity over his relationship with Wally generated some extra interest in the gala, he could cope with it.

“Stop fiddling with your collar,” Dick hissed to Wally. They were at the finger food table with the party in full swing. They hadn’t garnered much attention because they weren’t doing anything interesting yet. The handful of reporters who were invited would eventually cotton on, but Dick wasn’t going to help them.

“It’s _itchy_.”

Dick batted his hands away from his collar. “Let me fix it. Go to your happy place.” He straightened the collar and loosened the bow tie a touch. “Better?”

“I guess.” Wally was being such a child tonight.

“Just eat a skewer or something,” Dick sighed. Maybe he was being a little snappier than the situation called for. He reached up and planted a kiss on Wally’s cheek as some kind of peace offering. He heard the snap of a camera. He didn’t know the photographer so he was probably a new guy. Bruce personally vetted every single person who came to these events, so Dick wasn’t worried.

“How’s your ankle?” Wally asked, grabbing a soda for himself and passing another one to Dick.

“Not bad.” Dick spotted Barbara out of the corner of his eye, wearing a simple dark blue dress. “Come on, I want to introduce you to someone.” He pulled Wally over to Barbara’s table.

“I was wondering when you’d come say hello,” said Barbara. Her red hair was caught in a loose bun. One of the last times he’d seen her was at his thirteenth birthday party when they’d kissed in the closet. That was before he’d started dating Zatanna, of course.

“Couldn’t stay away.” Dick pushed the kiss out of his mind. That had been over two years ago and he’d dated two other people since then. They were friends, and it wasn’t like he was keeping it a secret from Wally, who had made him spill every moment of what happened at the party since he hadn’t been able to attend.

“And I assume this handsome fella is your date?” said Barbara. “Wally, is it? I’m Barbara.” Dick knew full well she knew Wally’s full name, what city he lived in and where he went to school. At the very least. She was diligent like that, and had a mind like a steel trap.

Wally and Barbara shook hands. “Nice to meet you, Barbara. Dick’s told me a lot about you.”

“I’m sure he did. I’m pretty awesome. Come sit.”

Dick scanned the room once he and Wally had sat down. “Where’s your dad?”

“He’s around somewhere.” Barbara sipped her drink. “We won’t be staying long. He gets nervous when he’s away from work too long.”

“I know the feeling,” said Wally. “My aunt and uncle are nearly always on call.” Dick didn’t contribute to the conversation; Bruce made an effort to look like he was a lazy bastard. Even though the reality was the exact opposite, their cover stories rendered him unable to talk honestly even with his best friend outside the superhero gig.

“I haven’t seen you around much, Dick,” Barbara said, dragging him back into the conversation.

“Oh, you know, been adjusting to being back home.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was enough of one to make Dick uncomfortable. The whole double life thing used to be cool once upon a time, but now it was just exhausting. And lonely. Dick didn’t know how he’d cope without Wally around.

“Must be weird, after all this time,” Barbara agreed. “Are you coming back to school next semester?”

“Yeah. We’ll still be in the same class.”

Barbara whistled. “I’m impressed, Grayson. Gone for two years and you don’t miss a step. What year will you be in, Wally?” Dick was pretty sure the question was just out of courtesy.

“Senior.”

“And how does Bruce feel about his son dating an older guy?”

“Eh, he gave me the classic ‘you hurt him, I hurt you’ speech but he’s been pretty chill otherwise,” Wally replied, wilting a little under Barbara’s heavy gaze. Dick felt a little flattered she felt the need to look out for him, and maybe just a touch insulted. Feelings were complicated. “He definitely took the news better than my own dad did.” Dick hid his surprise at Wally’s admission. He hadn’t spoken much about it since he’d left home.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Barbara said sympathetically. “Good on you for coming out in the open even after that.”

“Wasn’t our choice, really,” said Dick. “Vicki Vale ambushed us and said a ‘source’ had told her about us.”

“It was probably my dad,” Wally muttered. “I mean, who else would go to the media without our permission? Your family wouldn’t dream of doing that to you.”

“Well, your dad better pray there’s no evidence,” Dick said darkly. “Bruce won’t let it lie if he finds any.”

“Yeah.” Wally shivered. “God help anybody who tries to pick a fight with you, hey?”

“You might not want to say that too loud in front of the commissioner’s daughter,” said Barbara, though Dick could spot a little smirk that tipped him off that she wasn’t being entirely serious. “If a certain somebody needs advice on getting away with things, though…”

Dick snorted. “ _Right_.”

The orchestra took a break from playing and the PA started blaring out pop music. Slow stuff, good for couples dancing. Dick and Wally hadn’t been in a dancing mood so far.

Dick snagged Jason as he walked by on the way to the snacks. “Where’s the fire, Jay?”

“At the snack table,” Jason replied.

“Snack table fires usually go out by themselves. There’s somebody I’d like you to meet.”

“You must be Jason,” Barbara said. “I’m Barbara. I go to school with Dick.”

“Um, hi.” Jason’s cheeks were turning pink. Barbara had that effect on people. Dick chose to not tease him for it. This time.

“Why don’t you sit with us?” Dick offered. “You can go put out the snack table fire first if you like.”

Jason rolled his eyes and continued on his way. Wally excused himself and disappeared into the crowd.

“He’s cute,” Barbara said once Wally was out of earshot. “How’d you two meet?”

“His uncle brought him to a science event Bruce held a few years back,” Dick replied. There had, in fact, been an event and Barry had brought Wally, but they’d actually met the night before in costume. Wally hadn’t realised Robin and Dick were the same person until Dick told him a little over a year before the formation of the team. So, really, Dick and Wally had indeed met at Bruce’s event.

“What’s he like?”

“He’s a giant nerd,” Dick said honestly.

“So you’re perfect for each other,” Barbara teased.

“Pretty much.” Dick could feel his face heating up.

“And you must really like redheads,” Barbara said, taking a sip of her soda so Dick almost didn’t hear.

Dick threw out his arms, grinning. “What can I say? I’m a babe magnet.”

Barbara snorted into her drink. “You’re terrible.”

“You should’ve seen Wally in his girl-crazy phase. He’d hit on anything in a skirt. _That_ was terrible.”

“Any _thing_?”

“Any _one_ ,” Dick corrected himself. “You know what I meant.”

“I know. I’m just messing with you.”

“You know, things have been pretty weird since I got home but now, for the first time, I feel like everything is back to normal. Thanks, Babsy.”

Barbara elbowed him. Dick spotted Wally heading back to him, just as the first guitar notes of a certain Enrique Iglesias song started playing. So _that’s_ what he had been doing.

“No,” Dick said as soon as Wally was close enough. “Oh _no_.”

“Oh _yes_.” Wally held out his hand, mouthing the first lyrics. Dick stared at him, unamused.

“You mentioned he was a giant nerd,” Barbara commented. “You never said anything about him being a giant _dork_ , too. He’s perfect. Go dance with him.”

“ _Don’t encourage him_ ,” Dick hissed. His face was on fire.

Barbara nudged him. “Go. Dance. Be merry.”

Wally slotted his hand into Dick’s and kissed his knuckles. Dick sighed and let Wally pull him to his feet and out onto the dance floor. He spotted Bruce out of the corner of his eye, passing a drink to a brunette in a glittery pink dress. He winked at Dick, and Dick rolled his eyes at him. Wally’s hand found Dick’s waist.

“Why do you have to lead?” said Dick.

“Hey, I asked you to dance. Come on. You’re tiny and tiny people shouldn’t lead.”

“The day I outgrow you is the day you will weep, West.” It wasn’t so bad. Dick focused hard on just Wally so he wouldn’t be put off by the flashing cameras.

“There are a lot of reporters here,” Wally murmured. “Christ.”

“Ignore them,” Dick advised. “Just look at me.”

Wally pulled him closer, his eyes boring into Dick’s in such a way that made his knees turn to water. They were close enough that Dick could’ve counted Wally’s freckles. He almost wanted to, but got distracted by his bright, intense eyes. Dick lost track of the song, trusting Wally to keep to the rhythm, which was probably not the best of ideas but nothing bad came of it somehow.

His face ended up on Wally’s shoulder, at which point they were just swaying on the spot. Dick felt like he could melt into a puddle at any moment; Wally made him feel like that _a lot_. He pulled himself out of his daze just in time to hear the song ending, and to feel Wally’s lips on his. Dick smiled into the kiss. It was almost laughable to think they were afraid to even touch each other in public a week ago. He was dimly aware of some applause and camera flashes, but couldn’t bring himself to care very much.

Dick came very close to following Wally’s lips when he pulled away. They vacated the dance floor—one dance was enough for both of them—and headed back to Barbara’s table, where she seemed to be chatting quite amicably with Jason, so Dick pulled Wally up short and they found a table of their own. He figured Jason deserved a break from having an annoying big brother, just for the evening. He could always tease him later.

Dick and Wally stuck to the periphery for the rest of the evening, except for when Bruce roped them into chatting with a few people Dick vaguely recognised from previous events. The rest of the time, Dick people-watched while Wally sampled the finger food. It was a good way to get up-to-date with all the high-society drama he’d missed out on, as boring as it was. Knowing who had slapped whom and other such stuff made navigating the social waters easier, and you never knew when that information would become relevant to a case. It also gave him a chance to gauge the high society reaction to his relationship with Wally.

“Shame about little Richie,” he overheard a middle-aged woman saying to another. “I had hoped to introduce him to my daughter.”

“There’s always the younger one,” her friend had consoled. “He’ll be quite the heartbreaker in a few years’ time.”

The first woman sniffed and said something extremely rude about Jason’s pedigree that Dick wasn’t going to repeat. He supposed the woman had conveniently forgotten about Dick’s background, which had caused a minor scandal when Bruce had first taken him in. In time, the same selective memory among these ‘old money’ sorts would apply to Jason. At least, until somebody with a grudge wanted to smear the family. It happened sometimes.

“I could get used to this,” Wally said, stuffing a salmon canapé into his mouth.

“You can get used to anything as long as there’s food.”

“That’s my philosophy.” Wally started on a skewer of some description. Dick was picking at some bruschetta, partially to make Wally look less gluttonous. All things considered, though, Wally was being downright dainty tonight. Dick wasn’t usually bothered by messy eating—he had, after all, known Wally for quite some time—but he didn’t exactly want crap about it ending up in the society pages. Not that it really mattered much beyond a blow to one’s self-esteem and a few elitists laughing at their expense. And who cared about those people anyway?

In the end, if Wally had a good time, nothing else mattered. Dick owed him that much, especially after Wally had become estranged from his own parents because of their relationship. Wally was endlessly sticking his neck out for him. The least Dick could do was make sure he was happy.

“Hey, Wally?”

Wally swallowed the last of the skewer. “Yeah, babe?”

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” _With me?_

Wally grabbed a second canapé. “’Course I am. Here, try this. It’ll change your life.”


	14. Old Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New leads on a case force Dick to face events that he's refused to acknowledge for two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the warnings in the tags about underage, rape and sexual assault come in. At this point, it's just discussed but parts of it are very blunt and there will be more than just discussion in subsequent chapters. If that's triggering or distressing to you, please take care of yourself and don't read this. Your health comes first.
> 
> This chapter is quite dialogue heavy and there is some repetition that I couldn't avoid. I've tried to make it as non-irritating and respectful of the subject matter as possible. I did hesitate to post this for a while, hence the long lag time between the posting of the previous chapter and this one. I'm still not 100% certain that the direction I had initially chosen for subsequent chapters is the right one, so it might be a while before another chapter is up.
> 
> Also, the names of certain characters in this chapter are totally made up and have nothing to do with real-life people.

Dick worked hard to recover his strength until he was ready to start training with the team again and do light patrols in Gotham. Batman was in the midst of some independent detective work, so Robin and Nightwing ended up patrolling together quite often and foiling some of the smaller crimes they saw. Batman still insisted on being involved with the larger threats.

The morning after busting a few small-time drug dealers, Dick and Jason headed to Mount Justice for training. Bruce was still neck-deep in his investigation, so he barely noticed them leave. Dick spent a large portion of the session on his back, since he wasn’t quite back to full strength yet.

Training was cut short when Batman arrived and set up the holocomputer. The team gathered around him.

“I’ve found some information related to your child trafficking case,” he said, shifting files around on the screen. “The data you collected during your last mission was incomplete, but I was able to reconstruct some images from the security camera footage.” Two appeared on the screen, each depicting a different middle-aged man. Dick’s blood turned to ice at the sight. He knew them.

With great effort, he pulled himself back into the present. He picked up enough of Batman’s briefing to know names had yet to be put to those faces, and nobody knew where they were. Dick spent most of his remaining attention span trying not to vomit. He started at the feeling of a hand on his back, but it was just Wally, who had noticed something was up. Damn it.

The team eventually dispersed and Batman motioned for Dick to come with him. They took the zeta tube back to the Batcave. Dick came very close to losing his breakfast when he rematerialized.

“You recognised the men in those images,” Batman said bluntly, pushing his cowl back to reveal Bruce. Dick nodded jerkily. Bruce sat down in his chair. “I need names, Dick.”

“Brian Harris and Kevin Scott,” Dick managed to force out. “In that order.”

Bruce entered them into the computer. “I’ll have the batcomputer run a search on those names, but it will take time. What do you know about them?”

“I think it’s safe to assume any kids who’ve been in contact with them are going to need some serious therapy,” Dick replied. That probably wasn’t the most straight-forward way to start, but it was hard to think through a pounding heart and lack of breath.

“You can take the guesswork out of tracking these men’s crimes.”

“They rape children,” Dick replied, trying and failing to steady his voice.

Bruce frowned up at him. “You know what I’m going to ask.”

“You want to know how I found out.”

Bruce nodded once.

“Can’t I just say ‘from personal experience’ and leave it there?” The last vestiges of Dick’s control over the shakes in his voice were gone. Bruce reached for him, before he seemed to think better of it and put his hand back on the arm of his chair.

“I’m going to need basic details,” he said quietly. “Time, location, any other associates.”

“Shortly after my resurrection, not far from Ra’s base.” Dick pressed a hand to his forehead, as if that’d relieve the throbbing in his head. “Nine associates. Only one of them might still be active.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

Dick shook his head, which only made the throbbing worse. At least if he was standing, he could move, release some of this energy. He twisted his hands together. Too hard. He felt a finger crack. Nothing broken. But wouldn’t that just be a giant steaming turd perched on top of shit mountain if he had actually broken his finger by wringing his hands? Okay, he was getting distracted and Bruce was staring at him.

“I took some time after escaping Ra’s’ base to get my head together,” Dick finally said. “I think the nearest water source was contaminated because I got sick. Really sick. My head was still a mess but I couldn’t afford to wait any longer so I left the cave I’d been sleeping in and tried to find help. Wanna guess who I ran into first?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “They offered to take me in and I wasn’t in any position to turn them down. They held up their end of the bargain, at least. Sucks for me that I didn’t even know there _was_ a bargain until I was nearly recovered and they suddenly decided I owed them. I’ll give you one guess what they wanted.”

Bruce was starting to look a little sick himself. “You don’t have to do this, Dick.”

Dick laughed wildly, a little too wildly, a little too much like the Joker so he clamped a hand over his mouth until the laughter was gone. “There were eleven of them, all up. They all had a turn, one after the other. Their boss had two, first and last. He’s still at large. I have no idea where he is. Maybe he’s in charge of whatever the hell’s going on now. Fucked if I know.”

“Dick—”

But he couldn’t stop talking now, not after the years of silence had finally been broken. “They kept me there for a month. Or two. I’m not sure. I got a glimpse of the land out the back of the house. I counted at least a dozen unmarked graves.”

“They’ve done this before.”

“I knew where it was heading if I didn’t get out,” Dick continued. “I watched them. Learned their habits. I hated them all but I had to give myself the best chance to escape. So I picked my target. He carried a knife in his pocket all the time—he liked using it on me—but he always got lazy once he was… finished.” He swallowed back the nausea. “Often he’d just fall asleep in my room. I waited until he was sleeping one night, grabbed his knife and slit his throat. The others never bothered coming around when he was there, since the fucker slept like the dead.” Dick couldn’t stifle another laugh. “Not what you imagined my first kill would be, right?”

“No,” Bruce answered honestly. Dick had to give him credit for that. “You never told anybody about this?” There was one person, years ago, but Bruce was asking about people like Dinah or Wally, so Dick shook his head. “Dick, why not? The moment you started killing is—”

“I tried to put it behind me,” Dick replied. “I had to function, and examining what happened wasn’t going to help. Not when the most important thing was surviving. After that, pushing it to the back of my mind became a habit.”

“A habit you wouldn’t have broken if it hadn’t suddenly become relevant.”

Dick nodded.

“Okay. Give me the name of the leader, and go lie down.”

“George Skinner, if he’s still using that name.” Dick left the Batcave, putting all his effort into staying upright and not vomiting. His head kept pounding, and his limbs were heavy. He needed to rest, and then he’d call Wally.

* * *

Bruce watched the batcomputer work, his mind frustratingly sluggish. Little by little, the horror of what Dick had told him sank in. By the time Alfred arrived with a glass of water and some sandwiches, he felt like he just barely had a handle on the situation.

Alfred placed the tray down, quieter than usual. He knew something.

“How much did you overhear?” Bruce asked, taking the water and having a long drink. The cool liquid rolling down his throat helped clear his head a little.

“Enough, sir.”

Bruce sighed, resting his head in his free hand. “Have you checked on him?”

“Not yet. I’ll bring him some water shortly, but it may be best if we allow Master Dick to decide when he wishes to speak with anyone.”

Bruce nodded absently.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“I shouldn’t be your concern, Alfred.” The computer pulled up criminal records and mugshots for Brian Harris and Kevin Scott. None of the living George Skinners the computer had found had any ties to those men, so the name was most likely an alias. There was one George Skinner who had died a decade ago who had gone to school with Brian Harris, but that didn’t help much at the moment. Either George Skinner was an alias or he wasn’t really dead. Either one was possible. Bruce was feeling the faked death angle today, but he wasn’t about to discount any possibility yet. Nonetheless, he put the dead George Skinner’s most recent driver’s licence photo up with the mugshots of the other two men. Just in case.

“Are those the—”

“Three of them, yes. At least one other is dead, and Dick didn’t mention what happened to the other seven.”

“I take it you have your suspicions?”

“Dick admitted he killed the dead man to escape.” Bruce saved the files and closed them. “It’s possible the others are also dead, but I can’t be certain. I’ll ask him later, when he’s feeling better.”

“I expect we will have a visit from Master Wally very shortly. I’ll fetch Master Dick some water and make myself scarce until I’m needed.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce came very close to resting his forehead on the keyboard. This was going to be a rough day for everyone. At least Bruce hadn’t said or done something to upset Dick this time. But there was plenty of time to be a terrible parent, of that he had no doubt.

* * *

Dick woke some time later to his ringtone. He fumbled for his nightstand, nearly knocking the phone to the floor before he finally had it in his grip. Wally’s name was on the caller ID.

“What’s up?” Dick said, stifling a yawn. He fell back onto his pillow.

“Were you asleep, babe?”

“Maybe.”

“Sorry. I can call back later.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dick stretched, gasping a little at the cracking of his joints. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just checking on you,” Wally replied. “You left pretty quickly after Batman’s update and I wanted to make sure you were okay. So, yeah. You okay?”

“Can you come over?” Dick asked. “I need to tell you something.”

“Sure. I’ll be right over. And I noticed you didn’t answer the question.”

“Just get over here,” Dick sighed.

“Yes, sir.” Wally hung up. Dick let his hand drop to the side, the phone slipping from his palm and onto the mattress. He hadn’t planned to tell anybody what had happened to him, but when he saw those faces on the screen…

Sometimes ethics were frustrating. If he’d still been the Red Hood, he could’ve gone and tracked those men down himself, squeezed every drop of information out of them and then shot them right in their fucking faces. But doing that would put Dick right back at square one again. He couldn’t expect everybody to forgive him a second time. He knew the Red Hood had been bad for him, but sometimes, in moments like this, he wondered if being here was any better. At least as the Red Hood he had some measure of functionality, even if it didn’t quite follow him home and out of costume as much as he would’ve liked. Now that he was in a safe environment, it seemed he couldn’t go a single day without falling apart.

Wally’s arrival pulled Dick out of his thoughts. “Alfred and Bruce warned me not to upset you. Has something happened?”

Dick patted a spot on the bed for Wally to sit, and didn’t speak until he did. “I recognised the men in Batman’s briefing. I ran into them after I’d spent some time living in a cave, trying to recover from the effects of the Lazarus Pit.”

“I had a feeling you hadn’t told us everything,” Wally said, snaking his hand under Dick’s on the mattress until he could squeeze it. “What happened?”

“I got sick from drinking bad water and had to get help before I was properly functional.” Dick pushed himself upright, falling against the headboard a little harder than he’d intended. Wally scooted closer and picked up his hand again. “I ran into those two men, plus nine of their friends. They offered to help me. I didn’t want to go with them, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know,” Wally assured him.

“Everything was fine until I’d mostly recovered,” Dick continued. “Then they decided they wanted some kind of payment from me. Obviously, I had no money and was still too weak for physical labour, so…” It was harder getting it out in front of Wally, somehow. With Bruce, he hadn’t had much of a choice in that matter. Which had sucked majorly, but being angry over _having to_ say something at least gave him the drive to keep talking. Here, he was left with his own convictions, which were now failing him.

Wally hadn’t quite caught on yet. “What did they want?”

Dick found the spark of anger he needed. “To be giant fucking pedophiles.”

Wally’s hand spasmed around Dick’s. His eyes were lightning. “ _What_.” His voice was low and dangerous in a way Dick rarely heard from him.

“Oh, it gets better.” The angry spark was barely flickering within him, so he had to get this out now before it was gone. “All eleven of them had a turn the first night, one after the other. The leader had two. And, better yet, he’s still out there somewhere.”

“He’s one of the—”

“Nope. We have no idea where he is or even if the name I gave Bruce is his real one. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I can barely contain my joy,” Wally muttered. “Please tell me you weren’t stuck there for long.”

“At least a month. Maybe two. They had a giant unmarked cemetery out the back. Wasn’t hard to work out I wasn’t the first kid they did this to.”

“Fucking _hell_.”

“I watched them long enough to plan my escape,” Dick continued, grasping at the anger that threatened to slip through his fingers and leave him with nothing but bone-deep exhaustion again. “One of them always carried a knife. He thought it was great fun to cut me up or just press the damn thing against my throat while he did whatever the hell he wanted to me. But he was also complacent. Liked to have me to himself for a whole night, but he often fell asleep once it was over.” It was a good thing he’d thrown up before he’d taken his nap, or he probably would’ve lost it all over Wally right then. “So, one night, I waited for him to take another turn and fall asleep. Then I got his knife, slit his throat and got out. The others never bothered checking on me when he was there. If they had, of course, maybe I wouldn’t have escaped. Or maybe I would’ve fought my way out instead.”

“Was that the first… you know…”

“My first kill? Yeah.” He was shaking again, damn it. Wally gripped his hand tighter.

“This… all of this… explains a lot.”

“I guess.” Dick had put a lot of effort into not thinking about it, but maybe it had affected him more than he liked to admit. But there was something else, something he hadn’t told Bruce. “But, Wally, there’s more. I’ve told you everything Bruce knows, but I didn’t tell him everything.”

Wally swapped the hand holding Dick’s and raised his now free hand to Dick’s cheek, painfully slow, giving him time to stop it. Dick let it happen, closing his eyes at the contact.

“I ran into a woman after I escaped,” he said quietly, leaning into Wally’s hand. “I wasn’t in a good state of mind, so when she tried to talk to me I threatened her with the knife, but she pulled a gun out of her bag, calm as you please, and said, in English, even, ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ I didn’t trust her, but I also didn’t trust my body was quick enough to get the gun. She offered to patch up my injuries and I came so fucking close to throwing caution to the wind and going for the gun anyway. I guess she realised pointing a gun at me wasn’t helping, so she put it on the ground and kicked it over to me.” Some memories so close to his resurrection were a blur or jagged pieces of an incomplete puzzle, but this one was clear and neat and ordered.

“Brave woman,” Wally commented.

“Yeah.” Dick managed a small smile. “We stood there for a while, just talking, until I calmed down. She offered to patch me up again, but said I could keep the gun if it made me feel safer. I thought I was going to regret it like hell, but I went with her. I was bleeding pretty badly and hadn’t thought to do some first-aid before I’d escaped. I’d just wanted to get out.”

“I can’t blame you.” Wally took his hand from Dick’s cheek and wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans. Dick hadn’t even noticed the build-up until then. He rubbed the sweat from his cheek. The whole thing nearly made him laugh. Maybe he was calming down.

“She took me back to her home and fixed me up. I was shaking pretty badly from being on adrenaline for so long. She convinced me to sleep in her spare room. She still let me keep the gun, and I was tired.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, babe.”

“I’ve spent a long time trying not to think about any of this,” said Dick. “I never really examined my reactions or why I chose to do certain things. So it’s as much for my benefit as yours. But thanks for saying it anyway.”

“Anytime, babe.”

Dick let the warmth from the petname wash over him for a moment before he kept telling his story, feeling a bit stronger.

“The stress from everything finally got to me and I got sick again. The woman took care of me. She told me her name was Iman, but she didn’t tell me anything else about herself until I’d recovered and was going to sneak out one night. As much as she seemed trustworthy, I couldn’t afford to trust anyone after everything I’d just been through. She caught me when I was nearly at the door. Then she told me about her daughter, how she had been raped and murdered and the men responsible had sent her the girl’s head and a letter explaining what they’d done to her in excruciating detail. She thought they might be the same people I’d just finished dealing with. She wanted to know where they were. I promised something better: if she wanted revenge, I’d go with her and help her get it.”

“And she took you up on that.”

“We had to wait until I was strong enough, but then we went back and killed everyone inside. The only reason those two men and the leader are still alive is because they weren’t there.” Funny how he wasn’t angry anymore, how he didn’t really feel any emotion towards the killing except for maybe relief. “I showed Iman the graves once we were finished. I like to think I helped her get some closure. I felt relieved those men were dead, but overall I don’t know how much it helped me. We went our separate ways after that. I tried to convince her to leave home in case the others came for her, but she told me she’d be ready and sent me away with her money, her gun and her car. She told me to sell the car once I reached the nearest city. I don’t think she planned to survive her next meeting with those men.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Dick managed a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah.” He’d had the same mindset walking into what he’d expected to be the final confrontation with the Joker as the Red Hood. “Anyway, that’s all of it. I sold the car like she told me to and put it all as far to the back of my mind as I could. Now you know everything, more or less. Wish I hadn’t told you?”

“If anything, I kind of wish you’d told me sooner,” Wally replied. “Not that I’m blaming you,” he added quickly before Dick gave into temptation to punch him. “I’m not. I’m just sorry I wasn’t more careful about, you know, consent.”

“You have permission to hug me,” Dick replied. “In fact, I encourage it because I could really use one right now.”

“Okay. Come here.” Wally pulled Dick into a tight embrace. Dick squeezed back just as hard. Like this, he could almost pretend something wasn’t broken inside him, because Wally was squeezing him tight enough to hold it all together.

* * *

It was a few days before Dick could persuade Bruce to put him back on patrol. He had yet to ask about the seven men Dick hadn’t accounted for, but both he and Wally agreed it was only a matter of time.

The night had been fairly quiet. The three of them stopped a handful of pickpockets and muggers each, checked in with the sex workers nearby and watched the police arrest an armed robber without incident.  The most memorable event was some kid getting his arm stuck in a vending machine, but once he was convinced to let go of the soda he’d been trying to liberate, he was able to escape. Or slink away in shame, more like.

At that point, the bat signal shone into the sky so the three of them headed for the GCPD. The commissioner was waiting for them.

“Jim,” Batman acknowledged.

“Batman. Brought the whole family out tonight?”

“More or less,” said Nightwing.

“How’s your leg doing, kid?”

“Good as new,” Nightwing replied brightly. “What’ve you got for us?”

“Got an anonymous tip about a possible base for those child traffickers you’ve been chasing,” said Commissioner Gordon, addressing Batman again. “We’re about to move out.”

“Give us the address and we’ll meet you there.”

The commissioner gave them the address and headed back downstairs. Nightwing, Batman and Robin headed back down to the car and Nightwing’s bike.

“Go home, Nightwing,” Batman said, opening the car door.

 “I want to help,” Nightwing protested.

“You’ve helped enough.”

“Am I missing something?” Robin interjected.

“I gave you an order,” Batman said to Nightwing, ignoring Robin.

“I can handle it.”

“I didn’t ask if you could handle it. I told you to go home.”

They were running out of time. “If there are kids there, we’re looking at a potential hostage situation with massive collateral damage if it goes sideways. You need as much help as you can get. _I can handle it_.”

Batman growled and got in the car. Nightwing went for his bike, sensing victory.

Their destination was a disused factory in the industrial district. Batman sent Nightwing in through the air vents.

“Your priority is finding the hostages,” Batman said before Nightwing slipped inside. “Let Robin and me handle the criminals. Stay in radio contact.”

“Got it.” Nightwing crawled inside the vent and Batman replaced the grate he had removed.

Nightwing downloaded a copy of the schematics from the batcomputer. Batman had copied or digitised paper copies of as many maps as he could find over the years. It was an ongoing process, and it made crawling through air vents a thousand times easier.

Nightwing went for the most likely locations first. He eventually had to abandon the vents, but encountered no one along the way nonetheless. That struck him as odd, and he relayed as such to Batman.

“Agreed,” said Batman. “Our route has been clear as well.”

“Something’s wrong here. Something other than the obvious.”

“Keep looking. We’ll extract intelligence from the office. Stay alert.”

“Got it.”

Nightwing searched more rooms, each less likely to hold hostages than the next. On one hand, he was glad there were no children at risk here, but on the other it just meant they were being held elsewhere. He checked everywhere he could think of, before finally giving up and heading to the office.

“There’s nobody here,” he said, entering the room.

“Figures,” Robin muttered.

“Please tell me we’ve got some intel at least.”

“It’s encrypted,” said Batman. “I’ll put the batcomputer to work and let the police sweep the place.”

“Weird how the police got a tip that there were kids there, but it looks like the place hasn’t been touched for weeks.” Nightwing pulled a grate off the wall. “Something doesn’t add up. I’m gonna check the rest of the vents in case this was a trap. I’ve looked everywhere else.”

“What, you think the tipster planted a bomb in the building or something?” asked Robin.

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Nightwing climbed inside.

“Robin, go talk to the police, let them know the situation. I’ll be there soon.”

Nightwing had just finished a vertical climb to reach a horizontal section when he found it. “Batman, I’ve got a bomb here. Finish up and get out. I’ll deal with it.”

“Nightwing—”

“It’s fine. I’ve got it. Go.”

Nightwing grabbed out a can of freeze spray. Without knowing when the bomb would go off or how sensitive it was to tampering, it was safer to freeze the circuits before touching it. That would give him time to break the circuit before the wires thawed, on the off-chance they were undamaged by the freezing.

It didn’t take him long to remove the casing, holding his breath as if that’d help if the circuits hadn’t frozen, and break the wires. He was about to pack up the bomb to take it to the police when—

“Nightwing, I’m picking up multiple signals inside the building,” Batman said over the comm.

“Multiple?”

“Get out. Now.”

Nightwing abandoned the bomb and slid down the way he came. As he was crawling out of the vent to the office, the air felt wrong. The calm before the storm. He didn’t know how, but he could feel something was about to go off. He threw himself into the nearest broom cupboard, jerked the door shut and dropped to the floor. Eyes shut, hands over ears, mouth open.

The bomb must’ve been on the other side of the building, because all that hit him was pressure and noise. The door and walls caved and landed on him and he lost the next minute or so until he felt a hand gripping his arm and pulling him out of the rubble.

“Nightwing? _Nightwing_?”

He could barely hear the voice over the ringing in his ears and the ghost of the Joker’s laugh in his head. He managed a thumbs-up to indicate he was (mostly) okay.

“Got the first bomb,” he managed to say before coughing up the dust in his lungs. Batman pressed him tightly to his chest.

“The kid okay?” Commissioner Gordon was there.

“I’ll live,” Nightwing managed. Batman’s hand was firm between his shoulderblades, but he could still feel the tremble. The man was going to be difficult to live with for a while after nearly, in his eyes, getting his kid killed again.

“You’ve got the worst luck I’ve ever seen,” said Robin. “It’s a wonder you haven’t died a second time.”

“You should go to the hospital,” said the commissioner.

Batman stamped down that idea. “He’s coming to the Batcave. We have adequate medical facilities. I’ll send you a copy of the files we recovered in case the originals are damaged.”

Nightwing rubbed his ear; the ringing had gone down a bit at least. “We were set up. Whoever sent in that tip wanted dead cops. I guess they settled for roast Nightwing instead.”

“Good work checking the air vents,” said Commissioner Gordon. “We could’ve lost a lot of people if we’d gone in blind. I don’t know how I feel about it being _you_ up in the vents instead of your boss, however.”

“Objection noted,” said Batman. Nightwing was certain the man agreed, and probably wouldn’t let him do anything risky for a while, but admitting that while surrounded by police wasn’t the best course of action. “Robin, take the motorcycle. Nightwing, with me.”

They headed back to their vehicles, leaving the semi-collapsed factory behind. The ringing was mostly gone now, but Nightwing’s heart was beating out of control. He took a deep breath. He was okay. He’d be bruised for a few days and might wake up with a headache, but it was nothing he wouldn’t recover from.

Robin zoomed off on the bike and Nightwing got in the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

“You’re already blaming yourself, aren’t you?” he said as Batman started the car.

“I should’ve been the one in the vents. It’s my job to make sure we all get home safe.”

“You were doing your other job. You know, being a detective.” Nightwing rolled his left shoulder, which ached a little. “You trusted me to be careful. Shit happens sometimes. You know that.”

“It happens more often to you than the rest of us.”

“If you’re thinking about firing me, forget it. Technically, I’m not your partner anymore. That’s Robin. I’ve already proven I can work without you, and I will if you push me.”

“Nightwing, you’re fifteen. You live in my house—”

“Save it. I’m not letting you bench me again.”

Batman sighed and keyed in the autopilot command. “You could have died tonight. Again.”

“Believe me, nobody’s more aware of that than I am,” Nightwing replied. “But what if I hadn’t been in the vents? What if nobody else had thought to check them? How many cops would be dead right now? I did my job tonight and I saved lives. I took enough of a break while I was recovering from my injuries, and you know how much I hate watching from the sidelines. I want to be out on the streets, helping people. I like what we do, and we all do it best when we’re working together.”

Batman was frowning out the windshield, silent.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll take the next few days off while my _very minor injuries_ heal up. Then I’m going back out. Deal?”

Batman didn’t reply, but since he hadn’t shut Nightwing down completely either, he took that as a victory. It did come at the cost of a silent, grumpy journey home, though.

Jason arrived home long before they did and was already changed into pyjamas. Bruce steered Dick over to the med bay, where Alfred took over, and went off to change.

“What happened out there?” Wally demanded. His lips were almost colourless, and he vibrated on the spot.

“The GCPD got an anonymous tip about the child traffickers’ base of operations,” Dick replied, letting Alfred help him undress. “It was a trap. I found a bomb in the vents and disarmed it, but there was another one I couldn’t get to in time. I went for the cleaning closet just before it went off. It must’ve been on the other side of the building, because it was mostly just pressure and noise.”

“Where’d all these come from?” Wally pointed out the scratches and blossoming bruises mostly centered on Dick’s torso.

“The walls caved in on me. I think the door caught most of it, though. And before you get mad at Bruce, it was my idea to check the vents in the first place. He was gathering evidence.”

“You seem to have avoided breaking any bones this time,” Alfred said. “Did you experience any hearing loss, sir?”

“Mostly ringing. It’s nearly gone now.”

Alfred examined his ears, while Wally gripped Dick’s hand.

“I’m okay,” Dick assured Wally once Alfred was finished and finally moved on to cleaning the cuts. “Bruce warned me about the second bomb in time.”

Wally nodded slowly, closing his eyes. “You scared me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Alfred set a pair of pyjamas on the cot. “Time for bed, Master Dick.”

Wally helped Dick into his pyjamas and they headed upstairs.

“You mind if I stay tonight?” Wally asked.

“I was about to ask.” Dick hadn’t given much thought to what had happened after the explosion, but it was hard to ignore the fact he’d definitely had some kind of audio flashback when he’d heard the Joker’s laugh. That didn’t bode well for tonight.

“Hey.” Wally nudged him, just as they reached Dick’s room. “I lost you for a second.”

Dick supposed he should tell him. “I think I had a flashback right after Batman found me. Just sound. But I heard the Joker laughing.”

Wally pulled him close, kissing a spot on his hairline. “Did you want to wind down a bit before going to bed? I could ask Alfred to make some tea.”

Dick shook his head. “I just want to sleep. Don’t be surprised when I wake up screaming again.”

“Of course not,” Wally said wearily. But he squeezed him tighter at the same time, so Dick knew it wasn’t irritation that made him talk like that. He was probably exhausted on Dick’s behalf. Existing like this really was tiring, and Wally had to know that nearly as well as Dick did at this point.


	15. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's life continues to get worse. Because I suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stuff about the assault mentioned in the previous chapter. Still nothing explicit occurring.

Dick wasn’t quite prepared for the sheer normality of going back to school. The buzz of conversation, the press of the crowd around him, the slightly sour smell of the locker areas that never seemed to go away no matter how much the cleaners tried. It was like nothing had changed, except he’d developed a serious hatred for the gel in his hair.

The day was mostly boring. Barbara made it a tiny bit better, but there was no getting away from the fact that schoolwork was incredibly unstimulating for somebody as far ahead of the curve as Dick. Luckily, Barbara was in the same boat so they found ways to amuse themselves when the teachers weren’t looking.

History class, however, was a kick in the teeth. Not because the subject matter was particularly shocking—Dick saw enough shit on the streets on a regular basis to numb him to the clinical discussion of war crimes—but because of the teacher.

The teacher hadn’t yet arrived when the students filed into the classroom. Dick and Barbara stuck to the middle of the room so they could safely mess around when they finished their work. Dick didn’t pay much attention when the teacher finally showed, not until he started speaking.

Dick’s head shot up and he was suddenly looking right into George Skinner’s eyes. He quickly averted his gaze under the guise of opening his exercise book to a fresh page. He couldn’t freak out. Not yet. Not without drawing attention to himself.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Barbara nudged him when the teacher was looking away. Dick shook his head. He couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t risk Skinner hearing his voice.

He took note of the name the man was using now: Mr Smith. Generic. Problematic. He’d have to find a first name. Surely there’d be some kind of record of him under that name if he was able to teach at a private school as secure as Gotham Academy. Dick wrote the fake name in his book. That wasn’t so unusual. A lot of students noted down their teachers’ names on the first day so they’d remember them. And Dick _had_ to remember this one.

Dick barely kept up with his note-taking for the rest of the class. Worksheets were passed around from student to student, so Mr Smith didn’t come anywhere Dick and thank God for small miracles.

He was out the door as soon as the bell rang, Barbara hot on his heels.

“Dick, what—”

“I can’t talk right now,” Dick said quietly. “Sorry. I—I need to find someone.” Artemis was the only person nearby who knew his identity. The only person who wouldn’t ask questions he couldn’t answer. He had to find her. Shit, what class did she just have?

Dick managed to shake Barbara off at the cafeteria, where he immediately spotted Artemis.

“We need to talk,” he said, gently tugging her out of the lunch line. “Please.”

“This better be good, twinkle-toes. I’m hungry.”

“I’ll give you half my sandwich,” Dick said shortly. “Let’s go.”

Artemis shrugged and followed him out of the cafeteria. Dick grabbed his sandwich from his locker on the way outside and passed her the whole thing. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

He didn’t stop walking until they’d reached an oak tree right on the edge of where students were allowed to go during school hours. Artemis had already eaten her half of the sandwich by then. Dick motioned for her to eat the rest.

“Okay, you dragged me out here,” Artemis said with her mouth full. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“There’s a rapist teaching here,” Dick said quietly. “Mr Smith. That’s not his real name. He’s one of the men Batman’s trying to track down. He was in a position of authority over the child trafficking operation two years ago, best I can tell, so it’s fair to assume he’s still pretty high up.”

“Is this one of those two guys Batman showed us?”

Dick shook his head. “A different guy. I gave Batman some extra intel when we went back home.”

“Wait. You know those guys?”

“I met them not long after I crawled out of the Pit,” Dick replied quickly. “I got sick from bad water and they and eight of their friends helped me out. Then they gang-raped me when I was feeling better.”

Artemis choked on the sandwich. “ _What_?”

“I was stuck there a month or two before I killed a guy to escape. I don't feel like sharing the details today.”

“Okay, so there’s a literal rapist being allowed near kids and you ran into him today?”

“He’s my history teacher.”

“Well, shit.”

Dick dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling off sick. I can’t… I can’t deal with this today. I just—sorry I dumped that on you. I had to tell someone.”

“Get Bruce to pull you out of that class. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Alfred picked up Dick’s phone call after a couple rings. “Master Dick? Is something the matter?”

“I need you to come sign me out of school. I’ll explain everything to you and Bruce later. Bye.” He hung up. He’d probably pay for his lack of manners later, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’ll get out of the class, Arty. It’s not like I’m going to learn anything with a fucking rapist looming over me.”

“Did he recognise you?”

“I don’t think so. I kept my head down. I’ll get Bruce to pull school records to find out his full name, but I don’t know if we can make him lose his job unless we find some hard evidence of wrongdoing. Which we don’t have yet.”

“Then we get some,” Artemis replied. “You should let the Team know what’s going on. They’ll want to help.”

“I will. I’m going to be a liability until this resolved, and they need to know why.”

Artemis balled up the shrinkwrap that once held Dick’s sandwich. “Okay. Lunch’ll be over soon. Let’s get you to your locker. You’re friends with Barbara Gordon, right? I’ll make sure one of us picks up your homework.”

Everything still sucked, but that was a small weight off his back. “Thanks, Arty.”

* * *

Bruce was in the back of the car when Dick climbed in. “I received a rather concerning phone call from Alfred about you, Dick.”

“I know where the ringleader is,” Dick replied.

Bruce cottoned on immediately. “Yes?”

“He’s teaching History at Gotham Academy. I’m in his class.”

“Did he recognise you?” He was on the same wavelength as Artemis, it seemed.

“No. I didn't draw attention to myself.” Dick felt a little better now that he was in the car, but the nausea still sat at the back of his throat, waiting to pounce at any moment. “We’ll have to look him up on the website. His name’s Mr Smith and I don’t know his first name yet.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Dick nodded jerkily; more talking would just make vomiting even more likely. He rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder and shut his eyes tight. Bruce silently shifted him into a more comfortable position.

Some time passed.

“Was that Artemis waiting at the gates with you?”

Dick nodded.

“She knows.”

Dick nodded again.

“And she took care of you. Good girl.”

Upon reaching the manor, Dick headed upstairs to rest until the nausea passed while Bruce headed down to the Batcave to start digging up everything he could find on this so-called Mr Smith. After giving Dick some time to himself, Alfred brought him some ginger tea for his stomach.

“Master Bruce is speaking with the administration,” Alfred said, passing him the cup.

Dick blew on the surface of the tea, watching the steam curl away from him. He still didn’t feel like talking, so he acknowledged what Alfred had said with a nod.

“Are you hungry, sir?”

Dick shook his head.

“Would you like to be alone, sir?”

Dick nodded. Alfred left him to his tea.

It was bad enough that George Skinner and his cronies had poisoned his recovery. Now they had invaded a place that should have been safe. School had always been boring, but it was also a place where he could take a breath and not have to worry about criminals trying to shank him. School wasn’t always a walk in the park, of course, but the dangers he faced there were mundane and manageable. Until now.

The tea helped with the nausea a little, but not enough to stop him from losing his last meal into the toilet. What was left of the tea soothed his throat after he was done.

Dick shot off a text to Wally, once he could get his shaking hands to cooperate, before wrapping himself in the bedcovers and trying to rest.

* * *

Dinah helped Dick explain the situation to the team that evening. The day’s ordeal had sapped him of the energy to handle it alone. Wally pressed close to him in the chair they were sharing, his hand rubbing warm circles into Dick’s back.

The team was subdued—even the mouthier members of the team, including Roy, who had happened to swing by a few minutes prior, had yet to comment. Dick wasn’t sure whether he preferred it that way or not. He kept his gaze averted. He couldn’t handle the way the others were probably looking at him, regardless of whether their gaze was full of pity or blame. It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to see it. Truth be told, he just wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

“Because of his circumstances, Dick has been able to give us a little more information about the people we’re looking for,” Dinah continued, “but, as you can imagine, his involvement in the case will have to be more limited from now on. Artemis, I need you to look out for him as much as you can at school. Bruce was unable to have him transferred to another class.”

“What, they couldn’t just give you a free period instead?” Artemis said to Dick. “That’s bullshit. Can’t Bruce—I don’t know—threaten to go to the media or something?”

“Not without evidence,” Dick replied, though he still didn’t much feel like talking.

“We're working on that,” Jason added. “Well, Bruce is. He doesn’t want me near these people anymore.”

“Is there anything the team can do in the meantime?” asked Kaldur.

“Keep investigating and be available to Dick as a support network,” Dinah suggested. “There’s nothing else you can do at this time.”

Dick finally found the will to look his team in the eyes. Kaldur didn’t look much different, though he was holding more tension in his face than usual. Conner, Roy and Artemis were predictably looking a mixture of enraged and disgusted, which, again, wasn’t particularly unusual for them. Raquel and Zatanna were frowning. Jason seemed fairly calm, but he’d heard the news a few hours before the rest of the team had. M’gann telegraphed her pity far more strongly than the others—her eyes were filled with it—and she was alternating between biting her lip and her cheek. Dinah was keeping up a veneer of professionalism with a little seasoning of pissed-offedness, which wasn’t out of place on her. Wally’s mouth was against Dick’s temple and thus his face too close to read.

“We should say something to Barbara,” Artemis suggested. “She’s in your history class, right?”

“And what exactly can I say without telling her I’ve been lying about having amnesia?” Dick replied.

“You could tell her that seeing Skinner’s face made you remember.”

“She’ll want me to go to the police, and that’s not happening,” Dick shot back, perhaps with a little more venom than was really warranted. “This all happened in another country with different laws than the U.S. and we’ve got no evidence to support my claims anyway. And even if we do find evidence, the odds of anything coming of it are fuck-all to none because, oh right, different country. But, of course, if I don’t make a report and it comes out that I do remember, like if somebody overhears me telling her or whatever the hell else could go wrong, then it’s going to make me look like a liar and give everybody an excuse to not take me seriously.”

“Then invite her over to your house and tell her,” Artemis said, very charitably ignoring his explosion, though it was abundantly clear from the sharpness of her gaze that she wasn’t going to forgive him right away. “And then tell her what you just told me. But in a nicer way. Problem solved.”

“That could work,” Wally said. “It’s not late. You could do it tonight.”

“I guess.”

“It’s up to you, babe.”

Dick could almost sense M’gann holding herself back from commenting on the petname. He wanted to go home. And sleep. And not wake up.

“I think we’ve covered everything,” said Dinah. “Is there any confusion?”

“I do not believe so,” replied Kaldur. “Perhaps we should take some time to process what you have told us.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Wally helped Dick to his feet. “We should probably get home. Alfred’s expecting us for dinner. Coming, Jason?”

“’Kay.” Jason followed them out to the zeta tube.

“You don’t have to tell Barbara tonight if you’re not up to it,” Wally said, watching Dick silently key in the correct information. “Or at all if you really don’t want to. I could talk to her if you wanted.”

Dick nodded, and the zeta tube turned on. He was already relying on other people to spread the word. It wasn’t like he could take back his independence now.

After dinner, Alfred made the phone call on his behalf and Wally waited down in the lobby for her. Dick ran the most recent obstacle course Bruce had set up in the Batcave until most of his restless energy was gone. One icy shower later, he headed upstairs to his bedroom, where Wally was waiting.

“I explained what I could to Barbara,” said Wally. “She insisted on telling her dad Mr Smith is using a fake identity, but I convinced her that there was no point saying anything else when there's no evidence. She's got your back. And your homework. It's on the desk.”

Dick sifted through the papers she'd left. It was pretty straightforward. He fell into the chair and forced himself to finish it, because the instant he lay down he wasn't getting up again for the night. Wally read everything over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't making any obvious mistakes, but didn't offer any real insight. Dick probably wouldn't have been able to make sense of anything he said anyway.

Homework finished, if only to a mediocre standard, the two boys crawled into bed. Wally held him through seemingly endless nightmares, and they both rose the next morning feeling like they hadn't slept at all.


	16. Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce digs into Dick's past and finds a lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous couple of chapters, this chapter deals with memories of the sexual assault of a minor. And a mention of puking because I like to repeat myself a lot, apparently. I do it in real life when speaking as well, so God help the people who have to listen to me speak on a regular basis.

Dick had no idea how he would've survived the next school day if Barbara and Artemis hadn't had his back. He still left the school grounds utterly drained at the end of the day, but it would've been so much worse without them. Bruce picked him and Jason up himself that day. With donuts. Dick nibbled on a cinnamon donut to make Bruce happy, but he honestly wouldn't have minded never eating again in his life.

“The police are investigating Smith,” Bruce said as they stepped out of the car in the manor's parking garage. “Whoever constructed his identity knew what they were doing. It's unlikely they'll find anything. Gordon has to keep the investigation quiet unless they find evidence, so it may be up to us to find enough proof to justify opening an official case.”

“Great.” It wasn't.

“Jason, start your homework,” Bruce said. “Dick and I have some things to discuss.”

Jason headed up to the manor without any outright complaints, though Dick did catch a glance at the scowl on his face. If their circumstances were reversed, Dick wouldn't be happy about being shut out, either. He'd come to care a great deal for the kid, as much as they pissed each other off sometimes. Getting into each other's business was one of numerous ways they showed affection toward each other.

“I've been investigating the years you spent outside the United States,” Bruce told Dick as they headed for the Batcave. “Ra's still uses the base you described.”

“So you found it.”

“I visited him there when I learned you were alive.” Bruce made a beeline for the computer. “You mentioned being in a cave near water. Up until recently, the nearest river was used for biological waste disposal--”

“Ew.”

“--which would explain the illness you suffered,” Bruce finished. He brought the computer out of sleep mode. “I've found where you were held during your recovery.”

“And you think there might be evidence we could use to incriminate Smith. Skinner. Whatever.”

“If nothing else, I can use anything we find there to get him fired,” Bruce replied. “Whether the police can use it is another matter entirely.”

Dick rubbed a sore spot over his eyebrow. “Baby steps are better than no steps at all, I guess.”

“I'll take care of the legal side of things. If there is a way to put this man and his conspirators in prison, I will find it.”

“Thank you. When are you going?”

“This weekend.”

“I'd like to come with you.”

“I thought you would. We'll take the batwing. You have the rest of the week to change your mind.”

* * *

Dick didn't change his mind. As much as the idea of going back to that place made him ill, he had to go. The place had haunted his dreams non-stop since he'd seen those men's faces on the screen at Mount Justice. His dreams twisted the place, filled it with shadows and ungodly noises that didn't even exist. He needed to make it real again. Real things could be fought, broken. He couldn't punch a dream. But, if nothing else, he could punch a wall. He'd probably hurt his hand in the process, but at least it was a tangible hurt, something that would heal in a relatively linear manner with predictable results, given the correct treatment.

Wally stayed over on Thursday evening, like he had every night this week. Dick was too distracted to be a good host. Wally didn't hold it against him.

“You know, if you wanted to take a sick day tomorrow, Bruce would probably let you,” he said. They were lying on their stomachs on Dick's bed, watching old cartoons on his laptop. Dick didn't have the presence of mind to follow the plot of anything he hadn't seen before. It took everything he had to focus at school, so there was nothing left of him by the time he got home. Alfred plied him with tea and light snacks the instant he got home, which helped him get through his homework, with either Bruce or Wally's assistance, but it was beyond even Alfred's power to kick his brain back into working condition for anything else.

Wally's words finally sank in enough for Dick to formulate a response. “No. I'm not letting this beat me. I'm not letting _him_ win.”

Wally said something about it not being a competition, but Dick had already switched off. He gazed at his laptop screen, taking nothing in. There were some shapes moving and sounds being made but they felt distant. So did Wally. And everything else.

At some point, everything snapped back into place and suddenly Dick noticed his laptop had been moved to his desk and Wally was sitting up, watching him. Dick checked his phone on the bedside table to find that two hours had passed without his knowledge. Oh, and Bruce was standing in the doorway.

“How long have you been there?” Dick asked him.

“Long enough. Get some rest. If you're still out of it tomorrow, you're not going to school.” He left before Dick could disagree. Wally was still watching him.

“I'm fine. Stop staring.” He slid off the bed and retreated to the bathroom under the pretext of brushing his teeth. But, mostly, he just wanted a moment to himself.

The mint toothpaste stung his mouth. And his gum was bleeding around one of his teeth. He hadn't been especially diligent about oral hygiene this week. It was a wonder he'd been able to brush his teeth on a semi-regular basis. He flossed to give himself some extra time alone. The blood stained the floss pink. Dick rinsed his mouth thoroughly and examined the site of the bleeding, rinsing again once it stopped.

Unable to ignore it any longer, Dick examined his face in the mirror. The light washed out his complexion and the bags under his eyes were a particularly nasty purple. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips paler than they should have been. He looked sick. Weak. Defeated.

Skinner was already winning, and they'd barely said two words to each other aside from roll call. Dick cupped some water in his hands and slapped it onto his face. It sharpened his focus a little, but he still felt worn out. He was nothing. Just some kid banging his head against a wall of cruelty and horrors he couldn't even begin to understand.

“You okay in there?” Wally asked from the other side of the door.

Sometimes staying dead didn't seem like such a bad idea. None of this would've happened if he--

“Dick. Babe. Say something.”

Dick dried the water off his face and tugged the door open. He had half a mind to kick Wally out so he didn't get dragged down into this whirlpool of self-hatred. But he'd never been strong enough to turn people away when he needed them.

Instead, he found himself bundled into Wally's arms with no recollection of how he got there. And all those thoughts—those poisonous, painful, destructive disgusting hurtful decaying-broken- _desperate_ thoughts—were spilling out of him. Wally squeezed him closer, and let the wave of words wash over them both.

When he was finally finished, Dick was shaking from the exertion, like he'd been hanging onto a ledge for the past half hour and was just about to drop. Fall. Die.

Ever so gently, Wally tucked him into bed and crawled in beside him, wrapping his arms around him again. Dick buried his face in Wally's tear-soaked shirt.

Wally ran his fingers through Dick's hair, untangling knots and soothing the headache that was steadily growing even as Dick's sobs broke down into hitching breaths, slower and slower until the air barely snagged in his throat anymore.

Wally pressed his lips against Dick's scalp. “You're stronger than you think you are, babe. The amount of shit you're dealing with right now is... well. It's a lot. Nobody should have to deal with that. And I know you're tired of wrestling with everything the world keeps throwing at you, but I've watched you pick yourself up and keep going more times than I can count, even when everything inside you is screaming for you to give up. I know you. You can bounce back from this.”

Dick wasn't in the right frame of mind to accept that. But it was something. And, if nothing else, Wally's voice soothed the plethora of aches that throbbed deep inside him.

“I'm here, whenever you need me.” Wally brushed away what little liquid was left on Dick's cheeks. “I know you and Bruce and Jason can be weird about accepting help sometimes—like, the fact you've let me stick around is a freaking _miracle—_ so I just wanted you to know that accepting help doesn't make you weak. And I'm running out of comforting things to say. So. Yeah. You're a badass and I'm happy to help you keep being a badass.”

Dick snorted a little bit at that. “Thanks, Wally.”

“I love you so much, babe. It's kind of scary, really. Like, how is it even possible to love a person this much without exploding into a million tiny pieces?”

“It's a very secret superpower.” Dick could feel himself slowly relax to the point where he might actually get some sleep tonight. Wow. “And I love you too.” He still felt like somebody had hollowed him out and taken everything that could conceivably help him keep pressing forward. Except maybe his heart. That was definitely there.

He could work with that. At least, for now.

* * *

Dick threw a pillow at the person who poked him awake the next morning. It was Wally, of course.

“Sorry,” Wally said. “You were pretty sound asleep.”

Dick unstuck his face from his own pillow, peering blearily up at him. “Whattimeisit?”

Wally was already fully dressed. “School time. Well, for me. Bruce already called up the school to get you a sick day.”

“For fuck's sake,” Dick muttered, shoving his face back into the pillow. Wally tousled Dick's hair.

“I'm sorry for waking you, but I wanted to talk to you before I went to school.”

Dick grunted as a form of acknowledgement.

“How are you feeling?”

Dick shrugged.

“Better than last night?”

Dick rolled his head to the side to free up his mouth. “I guess. I don't know. I'm tired.”

“Okay. Bruce wants more time to prepare everything for the trip so you're going to leave in the late afternoon. I'll swing by before you leave if school lets out in time.” Wally kissed his forehead. “Go back to sleep. Have a safe trip if I don't see you.”

Dick, eyes closed again, swiped his hand in Wally's direction but missed him entirely. Wally laughed his way out of the room. Dick rolled over and went back to sleep.

The next time he woke, Alfred brought him toast and orange juice.

“You're spoiling me, Alfie,” Dick yawned, stretching out his back with his arms over his head.

“For the moment,” Alfred replied. “I have packed your bags, sir, but you may wish to collect any extra items you wish to take. You leave in an hour.”

School would be letting out soon, Dick noticed as he ate his breakfast, so it looked like Wally would be there to see him off after all. He certainly needed the reassurance.

The food ended up in the toilet shortly after it was eaten. Again. Which was a great omen of things to come, surely.

This was a bad idea, but he wasn't going to back down from this. He knew where all the surveillance cameras were. He knew where the security room was. Bruce had a much better chance of getting the evidence he was looking for with Dick's help.

And—oh shit—Dick still hadn't told him he'd gone back after his escape to kill everyone else inside the building. But that wasn't the sort of thing he could share right before they'd be spending hours on a small jet together. Maybe it'd be best if Bruce found out for himself... or, ideally, didn't venture far enough into the surveillance footage to discover it in the first place. Knowing Bruce, though, he almost certainly would.

Putting that happy thought aside, Dick found a list Alfred had written of everything he had packed. He'd nearly thought of everything. Dick added his music player and phone and chargers for both and then his part of the packing was done.

Wally charged into the Batcave while Dick and Bruce were packing the batwing, nearly upending a training dummy.

“Way to make an entrance, Walls,” Dick said.

“Anything for you, babe.”

Jason took a break from shaping a batarang to make gagging noises. Dick threw an oily rag at him, but Bruce caught it before it got very far.

“I'll finish up,” he said. “Go upstairs.” In other words, _go away_. Dick and Wally headed up to the manor. Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, sans mask. He'd put that on when they started flying.

“I still haven't told Bruce everything,” he said as soon as they were in the drawing room.

“And by 'everything', you mean your, uh, return tour, right?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

“It's too late to bring it up,” Dick continued. “I'm not dumping that on him just before we have to spend hours in a cramped space together.”

“And if you tell him when you land, he might not let you come with him.”

“Exactly.”

“He's going to find out, Dick.”

“I know.”

“He's going to be pissed.”

“ _I know_.” Dick sat heavily in the desk chair nearby. “If I tell him, he'll be pissed. If I let him find out for himself, he'll be pissed. If I try to stop him from finding out, it won't work and he'll be even more pissed. And he has every right to be. He still thinks my killing was something I stumbled into in a moment of desperation. Going back and murdering people isn't desperation. It's pre-meditated. It's malicious. It's fucked-up as all hell and I have no right to even be freaking out about it because I deserve everything he throws at me when he finds out.”

“I still think it was a little bit of desperation,” Wally replied. “You know I'm not excusing what you did, but you weren't exactly in a good way at the time.”

“I can't blame mental illness for my decision to kill people,” said Dick. “That was all me. What happened to me may have pushed me in a certain direction and given me options I wouldn't have normally considered, but neither that nor a chemical imbalance in my brain forced me to do it.”

“I know.”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Do you? Because everyone who knows what's going on seems way too quick to blame my PTSD for every bad thing I did over those two years. Even Dinah isn't immune, and she's a trained therapist. I'm still just as sick as I was back then, but I've made the decision to stop killing because it's the wrong thing for me to do. I'm not a police officer or in the military, and even they have rules about killing most of the time. Even if they don't always follow them,” he added under his breath.

“Babe...” Wally brushed his fingers along Dick's temples and into his hair. “I get what you're saying. I don't think anyone's meaning to imply mentally ill people are automatically violent.”

“You don't have to mean it for it to happen. I have to be held responsible, Wally.” Dick's voice cracked, and he took a moment to recenter himself before continuing. “I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. It's still hard for me to feel bad about some of the people I killed, but on the whole, what I did was terrible. The damage wasn't restricted to the criminals I thought deserved to die. It hurt their loved ones, civilians, law enforcement, Bruce, me.”

“This is starting to sound like our campfire conversation,” said Wally. “Except you're freaking out less. Which looks like progress to me. Relapsing every so often doesn't mean you're not recovering. You know that, right?”

“Your faith in me is inspiring,” Dick said with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

“Yeah, you really do sound inspired.” Wally knelt down in front of Dick. “But, okay. Look. A few months ago you couldn't even talk about this without going into meltdown mode. Maybe it's hard to see from your perspective, but I can see improvement. It's not constant or in a straight line, but it's there. So whatever happens when Bruce finds out about this, you're way better equipped to handle it now than you would have been when you first came back to us.”

“But--”

“Hey, I'm not saying it'll be easy. Whatever happens, I've got your back, okay?”

A rock still dropped into Dick's stomach at the thought of the conversation he was going to have with Bruce within a day or so, but the whole situation didn't seem quite as insurmountable as before. He nodded. “Okay.”

Wally cupped Dick's face in his hands. He pressed a kiss to the younger boy's nose. “Did you want to talk about what going back to that place is going to be like?”

Dick shrugged. “I guess. It's gonna suck. And I'll probably puke again. I've been doing that a lot lately.”

One of Wally's hands dropped to rub Dick's stomach. “You feeling okay?”

“At the moment. I was sick earlier.”

“Have you eaten anything since then?”

Dick shook his head.

“You need to have something, Dick. It's a long trip to take on an empty stomach.”

“I'd rather stick my finger in an automatic pencil sharpener.”

“I would advise against that, sir.” Alfred stepped through the grandfather-clock-concealed entrance to the Batcave. “Food you can eat without feeling ill, however, can be arranged.”

Dick fought the urge to groan. He had absolutely no interest in food, and even less interest in anything that would delay leaving. The sooner they were in the air, the sooner he could get this all over with.

Alfred headed for the kitchen and Dick just really wanted to punch the nearest hard surface, which in this case was an antique desk that should never be punched under any circumstances. Wally pulled him to his feet and they dawdled after Alfred, who had since disappeared.

“If I puke again, I'm blaming you.”

Wally pulled him in close to his side. “If it makes you feel better.”

* * *

Alfred had been careful in choosing what Dick ate—a nutrient-rich icy pole that Alfred kept in stock for occasions when somebody was sick or vomiting out toxins but needed a way to keep their fluids up, and some dry crackers. He also packed some extra crackers, a few bottles of sports drink (as well as bottled water), and some sliced lemon that could supposedly fight nausea but Dick wasn't exactly keen to try it. At the very least, Dick wasn't flying on a completely empty stomach.

Wally had squeezed Dick into a borderline rib-cracking hug before letting him climb into the jet. Dick already missed him, which wasn't a very good sign. He promised Wally he'd text him when he and Bruce landed at their destination.

Bruce didn't talk much during the flight. That wasn't unusual. The silence didn't usually bother Dick too much, but today wasn't exactly usual.

“What's the plan when we land?” he asked Bruce, putting on his Nightwing mask.

“I have a base a few hours' drive from the compound,” Bruce told him. “We'll land there and drive the rest of the way.”

“Pretty convenient that you have a base only a few hours away from one of Ra's' palaces. Recent development?”

Bruce grunted, which wasn't much of a response. Dick wondered if it had something to do with what happened to him. The Joker had been on Ra's' payroll at the time of Dick's death, after all. Dick shut the thought down once he was finished considering it. It was unlikely he'd get a straight answer even if he worked up the courage to ask, and he didn't need the extra stress anyway.

They landed at Batman's base after what had to be the longest plane ride ever. It was the afternoon of the next day and Dick was alternating between tense wakefulness and a cloud of exhaustion.

“Hit the showers and put on some pyjamas when you're done,” Bruce said, pointing him in the right direction once they were inside the concrete bunker. “We'll head out this evening.”

That wasn't what Dick wanted to hear, but his nerves were stretched tightly enough without adding an argument into the mix before they even got to the building from hell.

Bruce was placing a pair of plates on the table in the sparsely-decorated kitchen, out of costume and wearing an old shirt and pair of jeans, when Dick came back out. Baked beans on some toast that had probably been living in the freezer as bread for a while. Dick still didn't feel like eating, but his stomach growled at him. So he ate. Bruce watched him over his own food.

“You can still change your mind,” he said after a while.

“I can handle it,” Dick replied, right on the edge of snapping at him.

“You don't have to.”

“No, Bruce, I really do.” Dick put down what was left of his toast. It had long since gone cold anyway. “I have to face it. For my own sake.”

Bruce regarded him silently. Dick could see the cogs turning in his brain, as he tried to understand.

“I spent a long time burying what happened to me in that place, Bruce,” Dick tried to explain. He suddenly felt anxious to earn his approval, for him to understand why he had to be here. “And somewhere along the line the memories became... larger-than-life. And distorted. And it's really easy to forget the people who—who raped me are human beings, not monsters. They're people. They're just people. Monstrous people, but still people.” He swallowed against his hysteria. “And it's hard to fight what's going on inside my own head because it all feels so completely surreal and hard to pin down and just... not real. I don't want it to be real, but I need it to be. The place they took me is just a place, a real place, and I can't avoid it for the rest of my life, not if I want to put it behind me one day. If that's even possible. I don't know. I don't even know if I'm making sense right now.”

“You are,” Bruce told him. He didn't offer much comfort, but his voice was soft, and that was enough. “Get some rest. I'll wake you when it's time.”

* * *

Dick didn't get much sleep, but what little he managed was enough to take the edge off the jetlag. Bruce roused him and they dressed in silence and headed out to the car. A black jeep. Discreet enough to not tip people off that Batman was around, but still Batman-y enough to be his. The further they drove, the more Bruce slipped into Batman-mode. Dick wasn't capable of acting like Nightwing right now. Nightwing wasn't too different from who he normally was, but without the constant threat of a nervous breakdown. That much was too difficult to manage today.

The hours ticked by painfully. Bruce had never been much of a talker, and Dick didn't have the presence of mind to fill the silence. Or the breath to do it. His chest just wouldn't fill with air the way it was supposed to. Every bump in the road felt like a punch in the gut. The sounds of stones and sand battered his eardrums. He wanted to stuff his fingers in his ears, but he didn't because Bruce was already convinced he couldn't handle this.

Just at the point where Dick was seriously considering ripping out his own hair, they arrived. The headlights went off and the nightvision mode on the cowl and mask lenses went on. Bruce squeezed Dick's shoulder for a moment, just long enough to ground him, before they both stepped out of the car.

There wasn't much to see yet. Dick could just make out a block shape in the darkness. No lights were on. It was possible they were the only ones here.

“The front door is alarmed,” Dick said. “But we can climb the fence and go in the back way.” He headed to the right, Bruce following. “That's how I got out.”

“Could they have added extra security after your escape?”

“Maybe. I don't think they would have. Not unless they were planning to kidnap someone else. But I personally wouldn't use the same base after somebody escaped from it. That's just inviting trouble.” The fact he'd already gone back and caused extra trouble for them probably made it even less likely anybody was still here. But he wasn't about to say that.

He found the fence, using his grapple to reach the top of the rocks. He clawed his hands in the links of metal and flipped himself over to the other side, dropping to the ground. Bruce was at his side a moment later.

The little mounds of dirt and rock that denoted a smattering of unmarked graves fanned out before them. Bruce froze for a split second, before letting out a slow breath.

“Yeah,” was all Dick could say. They picked their way around the graves, Bruce's hand finding Dick's shoulder again. It would have been all too easy for Dick to have ended his second chance at life in this place, unnamed and unknown just like all the rest. Bruce was still silent, but Dick could almost feel the man's brain working on how to get all these children home to their families one last time.

They reached the door. Dick rested his fingers on the handle.

“Whenever you're ready,” Bruce said, his voice a low, comforting rumble.

“The security cameras only capture video,” Dick said, gripping the handle for a moment before he finally turned it. “The only issue we'll have with sound is if somebody else is here. Which is unlikely. I'll lead the way to the security room.” The door swung open. Dick took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

The air was stale and heavy with dust. With no sound other than his own breath, Dick could hear the nearest camera softly whirring. He hugged the wall, Bruce in tow, and softly stepped down the hallway.

The last time he'd stalked these halls, he had worn old jeans, a ripped t-shirt and dirty sneakers that Iman had dug out from somewhere for him. His right hand had gripped the handgun Iman had leant him, his palm slick with sweat. He had carefully metered his breaths, much like he did now, though for different reasons. Back then he hadn't wanted to give his position away, but right now he didn't want Bruce to know how close he was coming to hyperventilating.

Back then, Dick had been filled with rage, his memories fresh and burning him from the inside. Right now, however, he just felt tired and anxious. The stress of coming back here and the length of the journey had eaten away everything else.

Another hallway, another lungful of dust. A shiver ran down Dick's spine as they passed by his room. He felt a sudden urge to double back, to open the door, to see if anything was different. Had they cleaned up the bloodstains he made when he slit his rapist's throat? There had been more blood than he was expecting. He'd never cut somebody's carotid artery before. He'd emerged from that room, coughing and covered in blood that wasn't his, blood-slick fingers flexing on the knife as he debated whether or not to leave it behind. He'd stumbled down the hallways to the back door, leaving sticky red handprints on the walls, barely remembering to avoid the cameras. He couldn't recall how he'd managed to scale the wall when he was so weak and slippery and only had one hand free. But somehow he had done it.

“Nightwing,” Bruce murmured. Dick had almost forgotten they were in costume. He had stopped moving as soon as his mind had ticked back in time. He moved forward again in silence. He didn't feel like talking.

They reached the security room. It wasn't particularly fancy, just a bunch of cheap desks with computers sitting on them. A shelf of old-school video cassettes lined one of the walls.

A caped figure was leaning over one of the computer monitors, the flickering light of the poor-quality video turning the lines on his face into deep trenches.

“Ra's al Ghul,” said Bruce, placing a firm hand on Dick's shoulder.

“Detective,” Ra's replied calmly. Dick hadn't seen him since the man had brought him back to life. He didn't have room in his head to dwell on that day right now.

“What are you doing here?” he said quietly.

“I imagine my reasons for being here are not so different from your own.” Ra's paused the recording he had been watching. “My agents in Gotham city discovered a teacher employed by your Gotham Academy had assumed a false--”

“You've been keeping tabs on me?” Dick snapped.

“I was merely attempting to right the wrong I did you by not adequately protecting you,” Ra's replied calmly. “Had I known your reaction to the Lazarus Pit would be so severe, I would have--”

“So your solution is to meddle in my life even more?”

Ra's knew what had happened here. He had to. The footage of the screen was of the morning after the first time Dick was assaulted in this place. The paused image was grainy, but the sheets on the bed covering past-Dick's sleeping form in it were removed later that day and presumably thrown out, since he never saw them again.

Too many people knew about this already. The information was beginning to spread outside his control. The spread of that information had been the only thing he had any say in during this whole fuckup of a situation, and now even that was gone. He was officially powerless.

“Dick.” Bruce's hand squeezed his shoulder. “Let me speak with Ra's.”

“Fine.” Dick pulled himself out of Bruce's grip, knowing full well that the only reason he got away was because Bruce let him. “There's something I wanted to look at anyway.”

He switched off the cameras using the nearest computer, turned on his heel and left the room before he gave into the urge to punch the leader of the League of Shadows in the face.

 


	17. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Ra's discuss what the hell Ra's is doing at the compound while Dick goes back to where the horrors began there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As has been the case with the last couple chapters, the rape warning is still in place.

Bruce waited until the door shut and Dick had enough time to walk out of earshot. He wasn't concerned about eavesdropping; the boy was too distracted tonight. Ra's turned his gaze back to the monitor he had been watching, the lines on his brow crinkling in a frown.

“How long have you known about this place?” Bruce asked him.

“Not long, Detective,” Ra's replied, still watching the paused image on the screen. “I already told you my agents found no evidence of Richard's whereabouts after his escape. I had no reason to investigate the surrounding area until I traced Mr Smith's travels. I believe Richard knows him by the name George Skinner? His trail led me here, and to this security footage.”

“Call me the next time you intend to investigate a criminal in my city.”

“You are possessive as ever, Detective. That being said, had I known of Richard's particular involvement at the time, I assure you I would have informed you immediately.” The image of Dick fast asleep on the screen suddenly seemed to repulse him, and he looked away. “I take it you are aware of what occurred in this building?”

“I am.”

“Then I suppose it is time for me to be on my way.” Ra's gathered up his cape and stepped past Bruce to reach the door. “I have saved you the trouble of finding the beginning of the boy's abuse, the night previous to the image currently on display. The rest I will leave up to you. I have done enough harm to justify remaining where I am not wanted. I had every intention of alerting you to the situation, had you not arrived when you did.”

“Thank you.” The words felt like sandpaper in Bruce's mouth, but they seemed like the right ones to say. Ra's left him alone in the room. The man had seemed genuine in his motivations for being here, so Bruce was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, albeit a very conditional one. The instant something seemed suspicious, he would hunt Ra's down again and grind his nose into the nearest hard surface.

Bruce rewound the tape, trying not to pay too much attention to what was happening on the monitor. It wasn't easy. The rape seemed to go on forever. He had been prepared for that, at least. He made a note of where it began and fast-forwarded back to the next morning, watching Dick wake and stumble out of bed, clutching a blanket tightly around him, and practically fall into the adjacent bathroom. Bruce hit fast-forward again. It was the only way to make this experience even remotely tolerable.

Dick still hadn't escaped by the time the tape ran out, so Bruce set it to rewind while he found the next one. He let that one run while he looked at the security tapes for other cameras. He was surprised to find that Dick had relatively free reign in the building, though he was nearly always supervised during waking hours and they preferred to keep him away from the exits for obvious reasons. He managed to dodge his captors for a few minutes here and there, but usually found his way back to them himself, likely to avoid even harsher treatment.

Bruce noticed a number of tactics he'd taught Dick shining through when it came to evaluating unfamiliar territory and identifying escape routes. He watched him mentally map out the building slowly over the course of the weeks, locate the cameras, memorise patrols and note when his captors were at their most complacent.

A number of tapes later, Bruce finally found the one that showed Dick's escape. Dick disappeared from sight of the camera for a moment, before heading to the bathroom for a while. The man who was particularly fond of knives, as Dick had described, arrived on the scene. Bruce watched the other feeds for a while, until the lights went off and then Bruce realised what Dick had done with the camera: he'd damaged its night vision. Clever. Bruce didn't see much of what happened after that, but he was able to identify a few sharp movements, and a long one in the direction of the door. Dick managed to evade the rest of the cameras in his escape. Bruce fast-forwarded the bedroom footage to the next morning, where the body of the man was discovered, blood having stained the sheets and sprayed onto the walls.

That should've been the end of it. He recorded copies onto some blank tapes so he could digitise them later. But now Bruce wanted to know when exactly the residents stopped living here. They had obviously spent a lot of time here, given the size of the graveyard in the backyard. But this room hadn't been touched in a long time, long enough that dust had settled on everything and the corners of the ceiling were threaded with cobwebs.

He set a tape of the main dining area to run on fast-forward, reaching the end with no substantial changes. The residents had taken no other prisoners. Three of them had left and not come back; they were the ones still at large. But everybody else was still present.

And then he loaded the next tape. It wasn't long before he spotted the first dead body, killed by a bullet to the chest. And then another on the footage from a different camera. And another. He counted a total of six dead, before his attention was drawn to the bedroom camera. The light had been switched on.

Dick and an unidentified woman both had a gun trained on the seventh man, who he had herded into the corner by the stripped bed. Dick's gun discharged, and the man fell. At that point, Dick turned to the camera, eyes alight with a savage kind of satisfaction, aimed the gun at the lens, and shot. Every man in that building was now dead.

Everything fell into place. Dick had never explained what had happened to the seven men who had been left unaccounted for. So at least that was a loose end that had been tied up. But it still left a sour taste in Bruce's mouth. Dick's omission had been deliberate. They would have to talk about it. He had no idea how, not when saying the wrong thing could possibly destroy Dick completely. He'd have to be gentle about it, but still get his point across. Somehow.

He recorded a copy of the shooting, pieced together from the various cassettes, and then opened up the originals, damaged the tape inside and placed them back on the shelf. He picked out a few other tapes to damage that had no pertinent information on them so it wouldn't be immediately obvious that evidence had been erased. Destroying evidence left a weight in his stomach, but Dick had already suffered enough at the hands of these men. Bruce wasn't about to let them hurt him further in death.

All that done, Bruce collected the recordings, placed them in the knapsack he had brought, and set back out to locate Dick. He wasn't difficult to find.

Dick stood in the centre of his former bedroom, facing the bed, lights off. He was utterly still, barely even breathing. Bruce could make out the tension in his shoulders.

Dick took a breath. “I know you're there.”

“Ra's is gone,” Bruce said. “Are you ready to leave?”

Dick swallowed audibly. “I thought coming back here would help me. But I just feel sick.” He rubbed his knuckles. Bruce made a mental note to take a look at them back at base. “Let's... let's go.”

* * *

The trip back was quiet, once Dick finished vomiting into a paper bag. He laid his head back against the seat cushion and shut his eyes. Bruce hadn't said anything about the security camera footage yet, but it was only a matter of time. He had to know what Dick did by now.

He managed to slip into a doze about half an hour into the drive. The next thing he could remember was Bruce carrying him inside the base and gently lowering him onto the bed in the quietest corner of the building. Dick made to sit up but Bruce carefully pressed him back down.

“Stay. I'm going to check your hand, and then you're going to sleep.”

Bruce stripped off the glove on Dick's right hand. Of course he'd noticed the injury. Punching the wall right beside the bed in that room hadn't been the smartest thing Dick could have done, but it had definitely made him feel a little bit better.

Bruce put a little pressure on the knuckles, found they weren't broken, and disinfected the grazes. He put a bandage on it so Dick wouldn't disturb the disinfectant while sleeping and then left him to rest.

It was easier to fall back asleep than Dick expected. The dreams came, of course, and his body was pinned down and his hands filled with blood and his knuckles bled and his eardrums rattled under the force of endless shouted demands and his throat tore from screaming.

His legs were trapped when he woke in darkness, and he struggled for a few tense moments before he realised he was tangled in a blanket. Just a blanket. He was safe.

Dick kicked the blanket off him and lay on his back while his breathing gradually slowed back down to normal levels. His heart took longer to stop pounding. Eventually, he pushed himself into a sitting position and set his feet on the cold floor. He couldn't stop shaking.

Bruce charged through the door, stopping short when he saw Dick was awake.

“Took you a while,” Dick said, a little breathlessly.

“The batwing... I was...” Bruce trailed off, catching his breath. That didn't happen often. “Are you...?”

“I... think I'm okay now. Maybe.” Dick tried to get up, but his legs were shaking too much to support his weight. Bruce caught him and set him back down on the edge of the bed. “Okay, maybe not.” His head felt too light and yet too heavy at the same time. “I'm... just gonna lie back down for a while.”

“I'll bring you something to eat. How's your stomach?”

Dick's head sank into the pillow. “It's settled down. Thanks.”

Bruce left the room for the kitchen. Dick shut his eyes and blew out a long breath. He felt heat on the side of his face, in the direction of the compound, and suddenly he just wanted to bolt out the door and run as far away from here as his legs would carry him. Which wouldn't be very far in his current state.

Bruce brought him some toast and a glass of water. “We can get underway in an hour if you're ready.”

Dick nodded. “I'll be ready.”

Bruce gave him a low-grade _I know you're lying but I'm going to let you get away with it just this once_ batglare and left him to eat. The water didn't do much to stop his mouth from drying up the instant the toast went in his mouth. Because it wasn't like he had enough to be dealing with or anything. A glass of milk powder mixed into water later, he was able to eat. Though, in hindsight, drinking milk just before getting into a plane that might make him vomit again given his current state probably wasn't the best idea he'd had lately.

Well, there was nothing else to do but wait and hope the food would stay where it belonged for the first time today.

* * *

The first few hours of the flight were silent, save for the whirring of the various instruments keeping the jet in the air. Dick's stomach hopped around inside him and his muscles coiled tighter and tighter with each hour that passed. He had expected to be relieved he was up in the air at last, but all he could think about was that if Bruce decided he wanted to bring up the killings Dick had failed to mention earlier, he would have no way out if the conversation got ugly.

Bruce put the jet in autopilot and turned his head in Dick's direction as much as he could without unseating himself. Dick's insides contracted.

“You lied to me.”

“I—uh—technically, I--”

“A lie of omission is still a lie, Dick. You know that.”

Dick nodded jerkily. He wanted to cry.

“I'm not angry,” Bruce said quietly.

“Y-you're not?” Dick's voice cracked on the last syllable. Bruce chose to ignore it.

“No. I'm disappointed you felt the need to lie to me, but... hm.” Bruce faced the front again. Dick's insides unknotted a fraction. “I've already forgiven you for doing worse things with less justification in Gotham. I know you have no intention of killing again. And I understand this part of your life is difficult for you to discuss, and that I'm not the person you prefer to discuss it with. I'm sorry you were forced to talk about it before you were ready.”

The lack of eye contact made this so much easier to discuss. Dick still really wanted to cry, though it was no longer out of anxiety. God damn, he was tired. And kind of feverish. He raised a hand to eye level, hardly surprised to find it trembled in place.

“Get some sleep,” Bruce told him. “You've done more than enough. I'll handle the rest.”

Dick tried, but closing his eyes just let the tears escape. And once they were out, he couldn't stop them. He buried his face in his hands. He couldn't hide here. He couldn't get away. He was stuck in a tin can in the sky with a man who had witnessed far too many of his tears already.

There was a click and then a hand pulled Dick's hands from his face while the other removed his mask for him. The mask was sealed when it was on, so it stopped water from getting in but that also meant water was trapped inside. It was a shitty design, to be honest.

Bruce knelt in the space between the front seat and Dick's legs, cowl off. “It's all right,” he said quietly, rubbing Dick's shoulders. The plane bobbed in a pocket of turbulence, but he kept his balance with seemingly no effort.

Dick scrubbed at his eyes, but the tears he removed were instantly replaced with new ones. He rubbed them away again. And again. And again. Until Bruce pulled his hands away and set them down on the armrests. Dick's hands curled into fists, squeezing the armrests as his breaths snagged on the blades in his throat.

There was nothing he could do but let it happen. Bruce remained in front of him, grounding him in the present with gentle pressure on his shoulders, while the poison of this past day drained out of him.

He felt empty afterwards, but the good kind. The calm kind. And unlike the catharsis of previous crying jags over the last few days, this one felt final. Like the poison had finally been drawn out of him completely. The pain was still there, but maybe he could start healing from it now. The more pragmatic side of him knew it wouldn't be that easy. It was going to take time. But it would happen.

Bruce found him a blanket and a pillow before climbing back into the pilot's seat. Dick curled up under the blanket and caught up on the extra sleep he sorely needed.

* * *

Any reasonable person would have been fast asleep at the time Dick and Bruce touched down in the batcave, but the place wasn't exactly full of reason on its best days.

Alfred greeted the pair with some sandwiches. Bruce set to checking the plane over with a sandwich in his free hand, paying no heed to Alfred's disapproval. Dick nearly dropped his when Jason showed up from God-knows-where and leapt into a hug.

Dick looked down at the kid holding onto his middle. “Um. Hi?”

Jason mumbled something.

“Sorry, didn't catch that.”

“He was worried about you,” Wally said, coming down the stairs with his own plate of sandwiches. “And, naturally, the instant I go upstairs for food is when you show up.”

“It's a gift.” Dick gave Jason's shoulders a little squeeze. “Thanks, little brother.”

Jason squeezed back. “You're, uh, you're welcome.”

Dick chuckled a little bit, surprising both himself and everyone around him. “Don't strain yourself, kid.” Jason punched his shoulder and went to grab a sandwich for himself. Wally took his place at Dick's side.

“How was it?” Wally asked him.

“Terrible,” Dick answered honestly. “But I feel better now.” He polished off his sandwich. “I got it out of my system, mostly on the plane ride back in front of Bruce, which was hugely embarrassing, but it seemed to do the trick.”

“Well, I'm glad you're okay.” Wally set his plate of sandwiches down on the nearest flat surface and pulled Dick into his arms. Dick buried his face in Wally's shoulder and squeezed him, just a little bit, just enough to make him feel secure. He needed that right now, after the day he'd had.

“'Love you,” Dick mumbled into Wally's shirt.

“'Love you too,” Wally returned softly. “Are you tired?”

“Kind of. But I've been cooped up in a metal can for hours and I really need to do something before I explode out of my skin.”

Wally pulled back a bit, still holding onto him. “Race ya to the gym?”

Dick snorted. “Hell no. I am going to walk to the gym in an orderly manner. You are welcome to walk alongside me.”

“Can I hold your hand?” Wally asked with enough faux sweetness to make even M'gann gag. Normally, Dick might've been tempted to tease him, but he really did need as much sappy crap as he could get right now. So he wordlessly grabbed Wally's hand and tugged him towards the gym. Wally pressed in close, nuzzling the hair at his temple, and Dick was half-tempted to forget about training and just head up to bed for the world's longest cuddle session.

Wally warmed up and stretched with him, the two of them chatting about anything that came to mind: the puppy Wally saw outside the school gates earlier that week, Jason accidentally flinging a batarang into a weapons cabinet, Alfred's distress over a sunken souffle. They deliberately stayed away from heavier topics. That would probably come out later after they retired for the night.

Dick worked on a floor routine while Wally watched from the bench. Dick didn't really feel like taking to the trapeze tonight, not after spending so much time flying in the jet. His muscles ached a little as he worked them, but it was a good ache. A satisfying ache. The slight jolt that ran up his legs when he landed a flip, tempered by bent knees, made him feel human.

He finished some time later, a light sheen of sweat coating his skin. His limbs felt loose and soft. His breaths were heavy, but relaxed and free.

Wally's gaze was still fixed on him, his mouth slightly open and curled into a small smile. Dick dabbed half-heartedly at the sweat on his arms and face with a towel before downing half a bottle of water. Wally gently trailed his fingers along Dick's waist before finding his lower back and pulling him in for a kiss.

Eyes closed. Lips soft. Knees weak. Warm. Slow. Safe.

They broke apart, both gasping. Because both of them had forgotten to breathe. Wally wheezed out a laugh against Dick's ear, both boys holding onto each other for support.

“I think we need to go to bed,” Dick said once he'd gotten his breath back.

“Yeah. How tired do we have to be to forget to _breathe_? Jesus Christ.”

Dick chuckled and pressed a quick peck on Wally's lips. “I'm gonna hit the showers. Meet you up there.” Wally gave him a little squeeze before letting go and heading out the door.

Dick stood under the near-scalding spray of one of the batcave's showers, letting the water wash away the final remnants of the trip. As the sweat and dirt and grime slid down the drain, Dick finally felt like it was all over. It wasn't, not by a long shot, not with Skinner and his compatriots still at large, but he could at least start closing the door to that awful time. It was all real—the place, the people, the things that were done to him—but that just meant he could fight them. They weren't demons or nightmares or shadows lurking in the dark. They were far away from him right in this moment, and they couldn't hurt him here.

School would be hard on Tuesday—Bruce was giving him Monday off—but Dick would be surrounded by people and protected by the passing of time. The odds of Skinner actually recognising him were slim. It would be assumed that Dick Grayson wasn't the sort of person who'd be at risk of ending up in such a situation, let alone be willing to kill in order to escape it.

It was going to be okay.

Feeling more at peace than he had in, well, months, Dick stepped out of the shower, dried himself off and put on a pair of pyjamas fresh out of the dryer. He rubbed the shirt against his face, letting himself revel a little in these small comforts.

He passed by Bruce on the way through the batcave. Bruce wordlessly ruffled his hair and the pair of them kept walking in their respective directions, Bruce towards the showers and Dick towards the staircase.

Dick reached his room to find Wally stretched out on his back on the bed, his phone held above his face. Dick kicked the bed with his foot, making Wally yelp and drop the phone right onto his nose.

Wally sputtered and flailed to his feet and then fell off the bed entirely. “God fucking—STOP LAUGHING!”

Dick had to hold onto the edge of the bed for support. Wally pushed him over, but Dick kept on laughing even as he toppled to the floor. He just lay there for a while, gradually calming down as Wally checked his phone for damage.

“You're an asshole,” Wally complained, slamming his phone onto the bedside table. Dick grinned up at him from his place on the floor. Wally groaned and threw himself down beside him. “Stop smiling at me. You're making me feel things.”

Dick's grin just grew even wider. “My smiles are magic.”

“Witchcraft, witchcraft,” Wally muttered half-heartedly. “Burn the witch.”

“I'll tell Zatanna you said that.”

“Please don't. I don't wanna wake up with hooves for hands.”

Dick rolled over and flopped down on top of Wally. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Wally grunted at the new weight. “You're a wonderful person.”

“I know.”

They lay there for a moment.

“So...” Wally took a deep breath against Dick's weight. “Are we going to bed any time soon or are you happy to just keep using me as a mattress?”

Dick climbed off him and onto the bed, burrowing under the covers. Wally crawled in after him, grumbling about his lack of manners. Dick pressed his cold feet against his boyfriend's legs in response.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Dick!”

Dick cackled into his pillow.

“Okay, you know I love you, babe, but that was a dick move.”

“You've used that before, Walls. Get some new material.”

“Never.”

Dick dragged Wally closer to him and rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. Wally's arms came around him instantly, as if by instinct.

“Did you want to talk about—?”

“Eh. I guess.” Dick wriggled a little until he was comfortable. “We got there, passed by a lot of unmarked graves to get to the back entrance, found the security room, Ra's was there, Bruce talked to him, I left them because fuck Ra's, found my old room, punched a wall, Ra's left at some point, Bruce got the video evidence and then we left. I had my freakout and I feel okay now.”

“What was Ra's doing there?”

“He's been keeping tabs on me.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Because _of course_ he is. He figured out Smith the bullshit history teacher was using a fake identity and picked up a trail that led him to the same place as us. I'm still mad at him for poking around in things that weren't any of his business, but at least he had the grace to feel bad about it. So maybe I'll only punch him in the face twice the next time I see him.”

“Only twice? I didn't realise you could be so forgiving.”

“It's something I work on constantly. Do you think I'm such a sweetheart because it comes naturally to me? I mean, it does, but I still need to refine the sweetness a little bit before it's fit for human consumption.”

Wally hummed softly. “Whatever you say, dear.”

They lay together for a moment, slowly winding down to sleep. Then Dick perked up a little, remembering something else he wanted to mention.

“Bruce knows I went back.”

Wally's arms tightened around Dick's waist, rubbing his back until he relaxed again. “How'd he take it?”

“Really well, actually.” Dick settled back into Wally's hold. “Better than I did. He was disappointed I didn't feel like I could tell him, but he got that it was hard for me to talk about. And then I had a total breakdown. Which was nice. I felt way better afterwards, though, so that's something.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that bit before. Was he weird about that?”

“No more than he is about anything,” Dick replied, closing his eyes. “He mostly held onto my shoulders to ground me in case I had flashbacks. I didn't, but that was probably because he did that. Then he got me a blanket and a pillow and I slept for a bit.”

“What a dad,” said Wally. He went quiet the instant the words were out of his mouth, though, and it didn't take a psychologist to figure out what he was thinking.

“Hey.” Dick rubbed Wally's arm. “You know it wasn't your fault, right?”

“Yeah.” Wally sighed. “I know. Sorry. I thought I was over this.”

“Don't be sorry. Your dad's being an asshole. It's okay to still be upset about it.”

“That's not—look. Okay. It's just... you've got bigger things to worry about than—”

“You don't have to feel guilty for needing comfort, Wally.” Dick pushed himself a little higher up and pressed his face against Wally's cheek. “Things are messed up for both of us right now. You're always helping me out. It's okay if you need me to help you as well. It's probably better that way, really. Everything can't just be about me all the time, you know.”

Wally snorted a little bit. “Just most of the time. Okay. Gotcha.”

Dick chuckled. “Totally. Glad we straightened that out. You should talk to Barry and Iris about it, maybe stay over at their place more often. Maybe having more family time will help you feel better. I'll let you know if I need you.”

“Thanks, babe. Sorry to drag the night down. It's great you're feeling better, after everything.”

“Oh, hush.” Dick poked Wally's nose. “Go to sleep. I'm tired, and you've got school in the morning.”

Wally turned his face to the side and caught Dick's lips with his. “Okay. Race ya to sleep?”

“ _No_.”

 


	18. Hanging In There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Wally both have some issues to deal with. And then shit hits the fan. I'm so great at this summary thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual assault of minors warning is still in effect, and is getting worse.

Dick was a little bit anxious about going back to school on Tuesday, but it paled in comparison to the sheer brain-wrecking terror he'd experienced the week before. Barbara and Artemis were waiting for him at the gates.

“My own personal bodyguards,” Dick said as they flanked him on the way inside the school grounds. “And in such pretty packages, too. I'm touched.”

“I will punch you,” Artemis muttered. “Don't think I won't just because I feel bad for you.”

“I'd never expect anything less.”

“I'm still not clear on how you went from taking unsolicited selfies with the new girl to being a pain in her ass on a regular basis,” said Barbara.

“We were properly introduced through Wally a few months before I vanished off the face of the earth,” Dick replied. It wasn't exactly true, but it was about as close to the truth as they could get. “Arty ran into him when he was coming to visit me after school one day, they hit it off and boom. Dating.”

“Our boy gets around, huh?” said Barbara.

Dick snorted. “He's only dated two people in his life and you're standing next to both of them. I mean, he tired hitting on some other girls but failed miserably. It was both funny and painful to watch.”

“Mostly painful,” Artemis added.

“You were just jealous he wasn't pulling your pigtails when he was paying attention to other girls.”

“Didn't you sabotage him a few times _on purpose_?”

“I was his best friend. It was my job to save him further embarrassment.”

“You failed at your job, Dick.”

Dick shrugged. “At least I had fun failing.”

Barbara just shook her head at them and stepped through the front doors. “You're terrible. All three of you.”

“That's true.” Dick reached his locker and shoved his bag inside. Barbara's locker was nearby, so Artemis left them to get her books.

“You seem better,” Barbara said, pulling a folder out of her locker.

“I am.” Dick piled his books into his arm and stacked his pencilcase on top. “Bruce took me out of the country for the weekend. Helped clear my head. I'm still not the happiest I've ever been, but I've got a better handle on it all.”

“That's good to hear.”

The bell rang and they headed to homeroom, passing Artemis on the way, who passed Dick a copy of her schedule. He already had one, but it was nice of her to think of it.

History class was scheduled right before lunch again. Dick and Barbara stuck to the middle of the room as per usual. Skinner/Mr Smith didn't usually pay them much heed. Dick's grades so far had been decent, but not worth noting. That was partially by design and partially because that was the best he could do under the circumstances. Barbara's grades were as good as usual, but she usually kept quiet in class for Dick's sake and showed most of her knowledge in the written work.

“Mr Grayson.” Oh, shit. Mr Smith was at his desk.

“Yes, sir?” Dick felt like he deserved a pat on the back for keeping his voice totally even.

“I haven't seen you for a while. Is everything okay?”

“Oh. Yes. I'm fine. I was just a bit sick for a few days.”

“All right. I hope you're feeling better now.” And that was it. Mr Smith went up to the front of the room for the roll call. Dick let out a slow breath. It was fine. Dick was fine. Smith wasn't the first teacher to ask him about his absence today. It was totally normal. It didn't mean anything.

And Dick was probably going to faint if he didn't get some more oxygen in him right now. Okay, breathe. _Breathe_. Barbara nudged his foot under the desk. Breathe.

Dick managed to centre himself as class started. His notes were undoubtedly shit, but at least he tried to get something down. Barbara would copy hers out for him again anyway. Which was just as well, since as soon as class finished and everyone packed up to head to lunch, Dick had already forgotten what the class had been about.

“I'll text Artemis and get her to meet us outside if you like,” Barbara offered, pulling out her phone as the two of them walked to their lockers. Dick nodded and pulled out his own phone to text Wally.

“ _Skinner singled me out in class. Just asked about my absence but idk im freaking out”_

By the time they reached the front doors and met up with Artemis, Wally had texted back:

“ _U ok? Arty and Babs with u?”_

“ _Yes”_

“ _Ok take a deep breath dude ur gonna be ok”_

Barbara steered Dick down the steps with a gentle hand between his shoulderblades. The found a quiet corner to sit in under a tree.

“ _Outside now. Cant breathe yet. Lightheaded”_

Barbara directed him to put his head between his knees and breathed with him. Artemis kept an eye out for other people, but the weather was slightly wet today so most people were staying inside. Dick's phone buzzed again. Artemis took it carefully out of his hand.

“I'll tell him what's going on.”

Dick slowly got his breathing under control. He sat up, reeling a little from the change in altitude. He took a few more deep breaths and the feeling subsided. Artemis handed his phone back. Dick scrolled through the messages sent while he was calming down.

“ _This is arty. Babs is stopping dick from having a panic attack.”_

“ _Ok shit im coming”_

“ _No ur not stay in school. We got this. See him tonight.”_

Dick's phone buzzed while he was reading. Wally had sent another text.

“ _No”_

Dick quickly composed another message. _“Dick again. Im ok now. C u tonight k?”_

A full minute passed, and Dick was starting to worry Wally hadn't seen his message, or had decided to ignore it. Then:

“ _U sure?”_

“ _Im sure,”_ Dick responded. _“Dont make ur teachers mad.”_

“ _Ok. Tell me if you feel bad again. Promise?”_

“ _I promise. Love u. See u tonight.”_

“ _Love u too”_

Dick put his phone away. “Okay, crisis averted.”

Barbara passed him a wrapped sandwich. “How are you feeling?”

“Shit. But less shit than before.” Dick unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. It was repulsive, but Dick couldn't tell if it was a bad sandwich or his lack of appetite that made it so. He barely avoided gagging through the first half and gave up on the second. Artemis was more than happy to eat it for him. No wonder she and Wally had gotten on like a house on fire. She had a bigger appetite than she let on most of the time. A bit like Jason sometimes, actually.

“Are you feeling up to going back to class?” Barbara asked.

Dick nodded. “The worst bit's over.”

The bell rang. The three of them got up to face the rest of the day.

* * *

Wally was waiting for Dick when he got home. Dick's schoolbag was gone in a flash, along with Wally, who then reappeared in front of him.

“Are you okay?” Wally lingered on the edge of Dick's personal bubble, hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out but wasn't sure if he should.

“I'm fine. Ish. You can touch me.”

Wally stepped forward and crushed him into a hug. “Anything you need?”

“A bucket of ice cream, a blanket and the most awful piece of shit TV show we can find.”

“That can be arranged,” said Alfred, closing the front door. “Provided you watch your language in the future, sir.”

“Sorry, Alfred.”

Wally led him into the family's preferred living room. They used a different one for entertaining, but this one was cosier. Wally flicked through the channels until they found some soap opera reruns and Alfred brought them a fluffy blue blanket, a bowl of chips and a tub of ice cream with two spoons. That was rather permissive of him. Dick had expected Alfred to go back to expecting a certain level of decorum from him months ago.

“Do try not to make a mess, sirs,” Alfred said, setting the food down and laying the blanket over the two boys. He left them be and Dick immediately shoved a spoonful of cookies and cream ice cream in his mouth.

“I'm tempted to get a can of whipped cream and spray the damn thing right into my mouth.” Dick scooped up another spoonful. “And then eat twenty packets of chips. And stab some assholes.”

“One of those things is not like the others.” Wally grabbed the chip bowl and ate a few, wisely choosing to stay away from the ice cream while Dick was hunched over it and probably looked ready to bite anyone who tried to take it away. Not that he would. Probably. Dick was in one of those moods that could go either way when it came to violence, to be honest.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Dick said through his third mouthful of ice cream. “They go together like peanut butter and the screams of the damned.”

“You worry me sometimes.”

“I worry me sometimes.” He swallowed the ice cream and helped himself to another scoop. “And I could really use a hug before I either start crying or plotting Skinner's death. Not sure which yet.”

“Emergency hug coming right up.” Wally scooted closer to Dick and put an arm around him. Dick leaned into his side, kicked off his shoes and curled up into a ball with the ice cream tub in the centre. The soap opera wasn't doing it for him, so he changed the channel to some cartoons. Good old road runner.

“This pisses me off,” he said.

“The road runner can be a bit smug, I guess, but that seems a bit--”

“Skinner, Wally.”

“Right. I knew that.”

“All he did was ask me about being away from school. That's it.” Dick grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into his mouth.

“You're starting to eat like me, babe, and that's not a good thing.”

“Fuck off.” Dick finished chewing and swallowed. “I'm freaking out over being asked a perfectly valid question for a teacher to ask. It's pathetic.”

“It's not pathetic, Dick.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks. So comforting, Wally. I feel so much better. Who knew all I needed to get over this was somebody telling me the exact opposite of what I'm saying?” Dick stabbed his spoon into the ice cream. “How has this never occurred to me before? I'm cured! It's like magic!” He shoved the spoon into his mouth again. The cold of the ice cream on his tongue jolted him back to his senses. “And I'm being an enormous asshole again, aren't I?”

“Just a little bit,” Wally replied.

“Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Wally paused for a moment, but Dick didn't feel like saying anything else, so he kept talking. “Knowing what Skinner did to you, though, it makes perfect sense to me that pretty much anything he does is going to freak you out. Especially if what he's doing involves singling you out and questioning you about things, no matter how small they are. You have every right to freak, okay? He shouldn't even be allowed to teach. He should be in jail, along with his friends. But he's not, and that's a problem. You're allowed to be upset about that.”

Dick nodded slowly, still a little caught up in the shame over his outburst. Wally silently rubbed his shoulder for a bit, and they watched the show. Dick had to keep wiping his eyes. Wally set the ice cream and chips aside and tugged his arms a little until Dick climbed into his lap.

“Damn it,” Dick muttered through the tears.

“Shh,” Wally soothed, rubbing circles into his back.

“I don't want to be like this anymore.”

“I know.”

“I just want one day where I can go to school and not feel like I'm going to break in half. One fucking day.” Dick took in a shuddering breath. “I want him gone. I want him to burn. I want him to rot in jail and never see the light of day again.”

“He will,” Wally replied softly. “We'll make sure of that. And we'll get his friends, too.”

“Okay.” Dick wiped his eyes they stayed dry. He breathed out the tension he'd been holding. That was over quicker than he'd expected. Maybe he wasn't as messed up as he thought. Everything was going to be fine. Skinner probably didn't recognise him. They'd find a way to make him pay for his crimes. They'd uproot whatever operation he and his friends were running now, because there was no doubt in Dick's mind that he was just as involved as the other two men were, and they would save the kids those men were hurting. It would happen. Dick would _make_ it happen if he had to.

Some time later, Wally spoke up again. “Did you want me to stay over tonight?”

“If you can,” Dick replied, lifting his head.

“It's all good. I might be busy on Friday night, though, just so you know.”

“Oh? What's up?”

“I took your advice and talked to Barry and Iris about how I was feeling about the situation with my parents.” Wally was deliberately not looking at him for the first time today. “We were going to try having a family dinner at Barry and Iris's place. It's gonna suck, but I guess it's worth a shot.”

“Did you need me there?”

Wally shook his head. “Not this time. It'll probably make Dad even worse than he's going to be anyway. Totally not your fault, though.”

“Feel free to text me a running commentary,” Dick offered. “I send you pictures of baby animals to get you through it.”

“Deal.” Wally grinned down at him. “You big softy.”

“Don't spread that around. It's meant to be a secret.”

“My lips are sealed.” Wally mimed zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. Dick snorted and settled back down against his chest.

“Dork,” he said.

“Dweeb,” Wally returned.

“Loser.”

“Nerd.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Okay. You got me there.” Wally grabbed the blanket, which had slipped off some time earlier, and draped it back over the two of them. “I feel like taking a big nerd nap. How about you?”

Dick was about halfway there already, so he just cuddled closer and shut his eyes.

* * *

Skinner/Smith left Dick alone for the rest of the week. Dick could've sworn he noticed the man watching him during class, but he probably watched everyone. Or, at least, that's what Dick told himself so he wouldn't stress out over it.

Friday evening came without incident, and Dick was glued to his phone to witness Wally's commentary of the “This Is A Terrible Idea But I Do Kinda Miss My Parents So I'm Going Along With It Anyway” family dinner.

“ _Dad hasnt talked to me yet”_

“ _Mum hugged me that was nice”_

“ _Iris is glaring at dad bc hes still ignoring me”_

“ _Send me a kitten asap”_

Dick obliged, of course. He managed to find the 'hang in there' kitty, which he figured Wally would appreciate in his current situation.

“ _Thanks babe. Gotta put the phone away dads talking to me wow”_

Dick was about halfway through finishing his own dinner when Wally texted him again.

“ _Newsflash dad still thinks im gay and iris is trying to explain the difference between gay and bi”_

“ _Dad is still calling me gay”_

“ _Oh wow he dropped the f word i feel so loved”_

Dick wasn't sure exactly which F-word he meant, since there were probably about three or four his dad could have used, so he just sent him a picture of a Yorkshire terrier in place of a reply.

“ _Thanks babe. Oh hey barry looks like hes gonna punch dad”_

“ _Damn barry just stepped outside”_

“ _Hes back. I think he punched something outside but his hands r healing already”_

“ _Mum looks rly uncomfy so thats something maybe. Shes trying to calm everyone down but its not working”_

“ _Ahh im being told to put the phone away_ _until its all over_ _. Ill_ _text u later_ _._ _L_ _ove u”_

Dick sent him a litter of puppies in a heart-shaped dog bed before putting his own phone away as well.

“Is everything okay, sir?” Alfred asked him.

“Wally had to get off the phone,” Dick replied. “But it didn't sound like things were going well. His mum's been okay but his dad's still being terrible. And apparently Barry went outside to punch something.”

“Wally's better off without his dad in his life,” Jason said, helping himself to some more mashed potatoes.

“That may be true, but he still misses him,” Dick replied.

“I know. Feelings are hard.” Jason slowly pressed down on the potatoes with his fork. “I used to miss my dad sometimes. He was a crook and he abandoned me and my mum, but he was still my dad.” It wasn't often Jason talked about his family, so Dick wasn't really sure how to respond. He didn't want to risk making Jason clam up again by accidentally saying the wrong thing.

Alfred came to the rescue. “The heart is rarely a logical thing, sirs. Would you care for another coffee, Master Bruce?”

Bruce waved away the question. “I should patrol.”

“Can I come?” Jason asked.

“Not tonight.” Bruce got up and left the dining room, followed by Alfred. Jason watched them go with a frown.

“Is it even worth asking what's up with him tonight?”

“Probably not.” Dick poured himself some water. “It could be the fact we haven't broken that human trafficking ring yet. Or it could be because of another case. Or because of me. Or he could just be grumpy for no reason. Anything's possible. It's probably best he's not inflicting himself on us.”

“You've gotten really chill about not patrolling lately.”

Dick shrugged. “I don't have much choice. Being benched is my natural state right now. And Bruce has been really nice to me lately so I don't feel like rocking the boat.”

“Everyone's been nice to you lately.” Jason scooped his final forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“I know. It's creepy and I want this all to be over so we can all go back to being assholes to each other. Well, I'm already being an asshole but people are cutting me way too much slack over it and I really should stop doing that.” Dick shoved some food in his mouth before he kept rambling.

“Sometimes it's like you just open your mouth and let words fall out,” Jason commented, laying down his fork.

“I used to be better at making sense, I swear.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Good. Don't. It'll only get you into trouble.”

Jason dropped his napkin on the table and got up. “I'm going away before you make my brain explode.”

“Love ya.”

Jason shoved Dick's head sideways on his way out. Dick finished his dinner and stayed up a bit longer to get a start on his homework. He didn't feel too bad today, but he didn't expect to suddenly have regained the level of focus he used to have. The only time he felt like he could fully focus was when he was out in the field or running mission control for somebody else. Any other time? Forget it.

Some of it was probably rooted in the PTSD, but Dick could distinctly remember working on self-assigned schoolwork in a library in Gotham back when he was still the Red Hood. He hadn't had too much trouble focusing back then. He had been nearly as capable of solving complex mathematical problems in his head as he had been before shit went to hell. He usually had to resort to pen and paper nowadays, which just pissed him off. Maybe getting Skinner and co. into jail would help with that. Until then, though, there wasn't much he could do except try to practice, which he couldn't do too often because he got far too easily frustrated.

He got the history homework done because that was the worst and then fell into bed embarrassingly early. Wally would probably text him later and wake him up, but he didn't mind.

* * *

Dick jolted awake an indeterminate time later. His first instinct was to check his phone—maybe it had gone off and that was what woke him up—but he froze as a breeze crossed his face. He never had that window open when he was asleep.

There were dark shapes in his room. One of them moved, and then cold metal was pressed against his cheek. A gun, he registered dimly beneath the panic rising in his throat.

“Thought you were clever, huh?” Skinner's voice. Shit. “Thought you could just slip right under my nose, hey, kid?”

Should he fight? Should he run? Did he even have time to do anything between the time he started moving and when the gun would go off?

“Don't even think about it.” The gun pressed harder into Dick's skin, scraping the inside of his mouth against his teeth. “See that guy over there?”

Dick glanced at another dark shape near his bedroom door, and nodded slowly. Carefully.

“If you struggle or even make a noise, he's gonna go out that door and into your little brother's room, and he's going to shoot him. You don't want that to happen, do you?”

Oh, God. Jason. Dick carefully shook his head.

“Good. Then we understand each other?”

Dick nodded. He swallowed down bile.

“I don't believe you. After what you did to my men...” Skinner growled under his breath. “You'll pay for that later. For now, we're gonna have a little test. See if you're telling the truth.” The gun left Dick's cheek. Skinner's hands wrapped around Dick's wrists and pressed him against the mattress. “Be a good boy and cooperate, and maybe we'll let the brat live. Fight back, make noise, and he dies. And maybe we'll find the rest of the family and take them of them as well.”

Dick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He couldn't let that happen. Bruce was probably safe for the moment, since he would undoubtedly still be out on patrol, but that still left Jason and Alfred at risk. If they caught Jason off-guard, he wouldn't have a chance of taking even one of them out before they got him. And Alfred...

Dick gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. And, God help him, he let Skinner do as he pleased.

Skinner's hands were cold and bruising. His breath was rancid, like he hadn't brushed his teeth in a week. Dick gripped fistfuls of bedsheet to stop himself from reacting to what Skinner was doing to him. He bit the pillow to keep quiet. He dimly registered the other men in the room watching them. He turned his face into the pillow as much as he could.

Skinner's breath was hot on his ear. “That's right. Good boy.”

Dick barely managed to turn a sob into a sharp breath instead, prayed it was quiet enough. The minutes crawled by and the urge to scream and thrash and jam his fingers into Skinner's eye sockets built and built until Dick thought he was going to shake out of his skin. But he had to hold it all in. For Jason and Alfred. For Bruce who would come home to find Dick's bed empty and Jason and Alfred's bodies bleeding out in theirs if he didn't.

Dick just stopped himself from cringing when Skinner finished. Two of the men forced Dick back into his pyjamas and manhandled him out the window. There was a ladder waiting for them. How the hell did they manage to sneak both themselves and a fucking _ladder_ onto the grounds?

Dick's feet didn't touch the ground once as he was carried out over the grass and up another ladder over the fence—the alarm should have gone off but Dick doubted it had—and into a nearby van. Most of the men, including Skinner, crowded into the back with him while one of them got up the front to drive.

Skinner jammed Dick into the corner and tied his hands to a bar above him. Dick couldn't sit down without straining his arms—sitting wasn't really an option for him anyway—so he ended up standing and swaying with every turn, barely keeping his balance. Skinner leered up at him from the bench beside him.

Dick subtly tested the strength of the rope. He couldn't break out of it quickly. It would take time. He'd have to go carefully to avoid attracting attention. That would be hard with Skinner sitting right next to him. If the space had been smaller, he could have taken everyone out with just his feet. Unfortunately, two of the men were near the back doors of the van with guns visible in holsters. This would require some planning.

He'd have to take Skinner out first. He was the most immediate threat. Then he'd have to quickly incapacitate the man sitting on the opposite bench before bringing the hurt down on the two men by the doors. He'd have to figure out how to open the doors before the driver was able to get to him, and would have to be fully prepared to fight him as well.

The best option would be to fight while the van was still in motion. That would limit the driver's ability to fight and possibly give Dick a head start in the opposite direction if he jumped out right and didn't injure himself.

The problem was these men already knew he could fight. If he was up against any other group, he would've had surprise on his side. These men knew he was patient, methodical and willing to hurt them to get out. That said, though, their knowledge of his skills boiled down to knives and guns. They hadn't witnessed him fight completely unarmed. Maybe he could work that to his advantage. Not as much of an advantage, but it was better than nothing.

Dick slowly began to move his wrists to loosen the rope. It was stubborn, but even the most stubbornly motionless things had to move sometime. Over time, he felt it give, little by little. It was dark in the van; it would be hard for anybody to see what he was doing. Getting thrown into the wall while the van turned a corner actually helped his cause, and the rope loosened even more.

Finally, the rope was loose enough that he could get his hands out. The van was slowing down. He didn't have much time.

He wrenched his hands free, slammed his foot into Skinner's face, drove a knee into the next guy's nose and leapt for the nearest man by the door. He wrestled the gun from the man's grip and shot the other guy in the foot before slamming the man in front of him into the wall of the van. He knocked the man he'd shot out by smacking him on the head with the pistol.

Then Dick kicked the doors open, his bare feet screaming at the impact, and leapt out. The van had still been moving, so he had to roll a few times to release the force acted upon him. The van screeched to a halt and Dick dashed for the nearest source of cover: a side-street that was, thankfully, open at both ends. He raced through it and turned left, only to find a few more men waiting for him. Shit.

He started to run in the opposite direction, but Skinner had caught up to him, even as blood dripped from the wound Dick had left on his forehead. Dick made a mental note to hit him even harder next time. If there was a next time.

Dick tried to run across the street instead, feeling bullets whiz past him, but Skinner got a hold of his arm and dragged him back the way he had come.

“Not bad, kid.” Skinner shoved him against a brick wall. “But not good enough. And now we're gonna have to punish you and maybe even go back and kill your brother anyway...” Skinner sighed dramatically. “Work, work, work.” Then he slammed Dick's head against the wall. The shockwave of pain was the last thing Dick felt before he blacked out.

 


	19. Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally discovers Dick is missing. Dick wakes in a new place with no idea where he is or how to escape. Faced with so many unknowns, he is forced to play his captors’ game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite it still being April Fool's Day in many parts of the world, I promise this is not a prank. 
> 
> Trigger warning about the sexual assault of minors still applies, plus something that could be interpreted as suicidal ideation.

Wally wasn't sure what to make of getting no response to the texts he sent Dick after the dinner ended. Sure, it was pretty late but Dick was both a night owl and a light sleeper. And he'd probably been expecting a goodnight text.

Wally had just given up on getting a reply and gotten comfortable in bed when his phone finally sounded a text alert. He snatched the phone up, only to find it wasn't from Dick. Bruce, of all people, had texted him. He hadn't even known the man knew how.

“ _Dick is missing._ _Get_ _to the manor_ _immediately_ _.”_

Wally was on his feet and dressed in an instant. He barrelled down the hallway and banged on Barry and Iris' bedroom door. A very groggy Uncle Barry opened it.

“Kid, do you have any idea what--”

“Dick's gone missing,” Wally interrupted. “I'm taking the zeta tube to Wayne Manor.”

“Hang on. I'll come with you.” Barry disappeared back into the bedroom.

“I'm coming too,” came Iris' voice from inside the room.

“I can just run myself to the zeta tube,” Wally said. He was going to vibrate through the floor if he didn't get moving.

Barry came back out, fully-dressed. “Uh-uh. Not happening.”

Iris hurried out, tying her hair back. “Let's go.” Barry scooped her up and they sped out of the house. Wally's parents had chosen to go home after the dinner, thank God. He wouldn't have been able to cope with their shit right now, especially from his dad.

They took the zeta tube to the batcave. Jason was waiting for them.

“Bruce is upstairs with the police,” he said. “They probably shouldn't know you're here, since Central City's too far away for you to have gotten here already.”

“Fine,” said Wally. “Tell me what happened.”

“Bruce got home about half an hour ago and went to check on me and Dick,” Jason explained. “He couldn't find him. I haven't been in his room, but something about it freaked Bruce out enough to call the cops. Then he texted you and sent me down to wait for you.”

“Skinner got in somehow.” The name was like iron in Wally's mouth. “He must've figured Dick out.”

“That is a likely scenario,” Alfred said, coming down the stairs from the manor.

“Is there anything we can do, Alfred?” Iris asked him.

“Not at present, I'm afraid. Master Jason, the police wish to take your statement.”

“Don't know what good it'll do,” Jason said, even as he headed in the direction of the stairs. “I slept through everything.”

“Do we know how this Skinner got past Bruce's security systems?” Barry asked.

“Not yet.” Alfred's voice wavered a little bit, and Wally wanted to hug him. “That may have to wait until morning. Master Bruce is unwilling to leave the inside of the manor unattended until he can verify our safety.”

“Can't blame him,” said Barry.

“Would you three like to remain down here until the police leave, or would you prefer to return home?”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Wally said. He'd nail his feet to the floor if he had to.

“And Barry and I have no intention of leaving you here,” said Iris.

“Very well,” said Alfred. “I will provide some light refreshments.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know, Master Wally. Thank you.” Alfred headed back upstairs.

“He's gonna do it anyway,” Wally told Barry and Iris.

Jason came back some time later, after Alfred had provided some crackers and left them to it. Jason beckoned to Wally from some distance away. Wally noticed when he got closer that Jason looked like he really wanted to vomit.

“You okay?” Wally asked him.

Jason shrugged. “Overheard the cops talking. Thought you'd want to know what they said.”

“Which is...?”

“Dick was raped before he was taken,” Jason murmured. “There was... evidence.”

And now Wally wanted to vomit as well. “Oh God.”

“But, uh, bright side? DNA will help once we've got somebody to match it to? I guess?”

Wally was still caught up in the present horror to even consider the future.

“Do you think Skinner will show up to work on Monday?”

Wally shrugged.

“We could steal some hair without him noticing. Or maybe there's already some in his office we could swipe. You know, so we can compare it to--”

“Jason, no offence, but please stop talking.”

And he did. Surprisingly. Wally wandered back over to Barry and Iris, who were picking at the food Alfred had left. Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed a cracker and jammed it into the nearest dip before shoving it into his mouth, barely even tasting it.

“Wally?” Iris put her hand on his arm. “What is it?”

Wally couldn't bring himself to tell her.

* * *

Dick woke to a boot in the gut. He flinched and his head pounded angrily at him. The man standing over him had a plaster over his flattened nose and two black eyes. He must've been the guy sitting across from Skinner in the van.

The floor was concrete, like the walls. So much grey. The door was painted a weak, semi-chipped green that did nothing to brighten up the room.

“Get up.” The man kicked him again. Dick curled up to minimise the impact and got up once the man's foot was gone. He was full of nervous energy, and screaming wasn't really an option. He could be a pain in the ass, though. Despite Skinner's big talk, he knew Jason and Alfred were no longer in any immediate danger. He didn't have to worry about them suffering for anything he did. By his estimation, he'd been out for several hours. Probably drugged after Skinner took him out. There was a tiny window in this room, and there was a little bit of natural morning light coming through. Bruce would've come home and checked on him already. It was safe to assume he knew Dick was gone by now and had taken steps to ensure the rest of the family's safety.

So Dick said the first thing that came to mind. “Who broke your nose, dude? Can I send them some flowers?”

“Shut it.” The man shoved him out the door. Dick caught himself on the wall before being dragged down a hallway that was just as grey as the room he had left.

“Nice place,” Dick commented. “Really homey and... practical. Did you hire a professional? It looks professional. My dad, you know, _Bruce Wayne the incredibly influential billionaire_ , would love to get their number. He's been thinking about remodelling the house for a while. Especially my room, since some jerks decided to break in and trash the place.”

“I told you to shut it.” The man opened another door, pushed Dick inside and closed it after him.

The room was full of cheap metal beds and too many children, all of different ages. There were some around Dick's age and a few who were probably a touch older, but most of them would barely be old enough for middle school, if that.

“You shouldn't antagonise them,” said one of the boys, who looked to be the oldest. “You have no idea what they're capable of.”

“Actually, I do,” Dick replied, working to soften the sharp edge of his voice before he made an enemy of this guy.

“Then act like it. They'll either beat that attitude out of you, or hurt one of us until you behave.”

“Point taken.”

“Good.” The boy—closer to a man than boyhood, but not quite there yet—held out his hand. “My name's Luke. What's yours?”

“Richard.” Dick took Luke's hand to shake. This didn't seem like the right situation for nicknames, even ones that practically superseded real ones.

“All right, Richard. Let's find you somewhere to sleep.” Luke picked his way through the beds and kids. The kids watched them pass in silence. There was hostility in the air. Dick hadn't made a good first impression with his behaviour towards their captors. They had probably seen all types before. Dick wasn't anything special.

Luke showed Dick to a bed in the corner that had two blonde pre-teens sitting on it. “We have to share beds,” he explained.

“I figured,” Dick replied. He didn't want to be touched by anybody right now, let alone have to share a bed with two strangers, but at least he was somewhat used to sleeping with other people because of Wally. He'd cope.

“Our bosses'll be back to take you to initiation soon,” Luke said. “Do exactly as you're told. Don't be a smartass.”

“And here I was hoping what they did before taking me was enough.” The aches already present in Dick's body seemed to flare up in response to the memory. “I'm not going to like this, am I?”

“Nobody ever does.” Luke ruffled the kids' hair. “I'll leave you three to get acquainted.”

Dick sat on the bed and chatted with the two kids, a boy and a girl. They were twins. Their names were Brandon and Bethany. They had been here for six months. Dick tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the thought of them being trapped here for that long. It was highly likely some of the kids had been here for even longer, depending on how long this operation had been up and running.

“How old are you two?” Dick asked the twins.

“Twelve,” Bethany replied.

“We think,” Brandon added. “We don't know our birthday.”

“It's on some form somewhere but we've never seen it.”

“That sucks,” Dick replied.

Brandon shrugged. “We don't really celebrate it anyway. Never had the money. Or anybody who cared enough about us.”

“We've got each other,” Bethany said.

“Yeah, because that's gone _so_ well for us. We're just living in the lap of luxury, aren't we?”

“Keep your voice down,” Bethany hissed. “They'll be coming for Richard any moment.”

“I can hardly wait,” Dick muttered. Well, he only had a choice between sarcasm and trying to break his way through a pretty solid-looking door in a state of panic. Given that he didn't feel like dying or risking anybody else's life, sarcasm was the only option available to him. Quiet sarcasm. With one eye on the door. He wasn't about to be taken by surprise again.

“You'll get out of it fine if you just do what they say,” Bethany told him.

“And don't be a smartass,” Brandon added.

Bethany swatted her brother's arm. “Stop swearing.”

“We live in a fucking rape dungeon. Creepy people come in and _pay_ to rape us. I'll swear as much as I--”

The door opened, so Dick didn't get a chance to fully process what Brandon had said. Two men Dick hadn't seen before stepped inside, and all the kids looked immediately to the floor.

“You.” One of them pointed to Dick. Bethany's hand darted out, squeezed his, and slid away again. Dick followed the men out of the room, resisting the urge to look back at the kids. This was already going to be bad enough without seeing the sympathy, or possibly the lack thereof—who knew?—on their faces.

One of the men grabbed Dick's arms and marched him down the corridor. Dick didn't waste energy fighting him. It was more useful to look around and catalogue as many details about the place as possible. There were too many doors and he didn't know where any of them led yet. He'd have to pay attention and find out. There were two security cameras in the corridor, one in the corner at each end. They made a soft whirring noise when operational. He made a note of that.

The men took him through one of the end doors, which opened up into a large cafeteria. The tables were made of steel that was bolted to the floor, just like the benches that ran on each side of them. A locked room with a large window covered in chicken wire made up the kitchen. Dick was getting tired of all the grey. The walls and floors were still concrete. Was the whole building like this? He spotted a vent up on the ceiling. If he'd had his equipment, he could've gotten up there easily.

Going through the next door into another corridor brought some more colour. The concrete floors were replaced with scuffed, but still polished, wood and the walls were covered in dark green plaster. The doors here were a nutty brown. Dick spotted a small dent in a nearby one, but they were mostly neat and polished. Some thuds were emanating from one of them and Dick tried really hard not to think about what was happening inside.

Dick wasn't sure if he should be worried or relived that they just passed through the corridor and into another one. He spotted a reception area through a semi-ajar door on the way past, but couldn't see much more than a computer and half a shitty painting before he was shoved into a different door at the end of this corridor.

This door was heavy and covered in metal on the inside, but with wood on the outside. The room itself was dim, but Dick could make out a large bed in the middle with a number of chairs and couches surrounding it.

“The least you could all do is buy me dinner first,” Dick tried to joke, but his voice came out thin and breathless.

“Shut it.” The man holding him shoved him onto the bed, tore off Dick's shirt and cuffed his wrists to the bedposts. Dick fought down the urge to struggle. He couldn't win this. He didn't know enough about this place or its inhabitants to risk winging it with no equipment and no backup, especially when he'd already risked his secret identity once.

The door opened again and somebody switched on a light, giving Dick an unpleasantly clear view of the dozen or so men who filed inside. There were now fourteen of them in the room and Dick was tasting bile.

Skinner came in last. He had a bandage on his forehead now. “Here we are, gentlemen. Break him in. No long-term damage. We need him working ASAP.”

The man who had marched Dick in reached him first, and the others fell back to the chairs to watch.

“I like to know the name of the guy who's about to rape me, generally speaking,” Dick said coolly. He managed to keep his composure this time.

The man put a threatening hand on Dick's throat. “You don't get to make demands. You shut up and do exactly what I want you to. Got me?”

Dick nodded, but didn't bother hiding a glare. He wasn't going to risking making things worse by fighting, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let them mistake that for acceptance. He didn't have the patience for that tonight.

Dick tried his best to zone out during what followed. The spectators kept making sudden noises—cheering, growling, saying revolting things. The man on top of him—one of the spectators called him Brian—kept pulling his hair and biting his arms and jolting him back into reality over and over and over again.

He forced himself to relax. It'd hurt more if he didn't.

One of the spectators got tired of just watching and joined in, starting an avalanche of people until there were hands all over Dick's body and he couldn't see or breathe

and an animal of terror rose in his chest and he pulled on the cuffs and he kicked and he screamed his throat raw until somebody shoved their genitals in his mouth and down his throat and he choked and thrashed until his legs were held down and he couldn't move anymore under the weight of so many people

he was going to die he was going to die he was going to

Skinner's face swam in his vision but he looked different and that sight was from the past—wasn't it?—but he could clearly see the room in the compound the first time Skinner touched him like that but that wasn't real that was the past that was over

except it wasn't over it would never be over no one was coming to save him he would be stuck here until these men got tired of him and ended it and by God he wished that would come soon

dying wouldn't be so bad he would be at peace he would be safe he would be far away from the hands and grunts and the heat of disgusting flesh and rancid breath and sweat and handcuffs and sheer fucking AGONY

oh god oh god why couldn't he just die

why

god

WHY

* * *

The sheets clung to his skin. His wrists itched and stung and his throat was raw from screaming. The air was filled with the stench of stale sweat and other bodily fluids Dick really didn't want to think about. His skin was covered in it. All of it. He needed a fucking shower right now.

Skinner—and it was definitely the Skinner from the present this time—stood over him. Most of the other men had left. Skinner stared down at Dick's completely exposed body for a few tight moments and it was probably for the best that Dick was absolutely exhausted because he definitely would have started screaming again otherwise.

“Get him patched up, cleaned up and back in the kennel,” Skinner said at last. He left, and the two men who had brought Dick here in the first place released the cuffs. Dick wanted to rub his wrists but one look at the bloodied red lines on them made him think better of it.

Brian grabbed him by one of the wrists and dragged him to his feet. Dick couldn't suppress a gasp as his wrist screamed at him. Brian squeezed tighter and Dick nearly fell to the floor.

“Lesson learned, huh?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Dick muttered. He didn't care what happened now.

Surprisingly, Brian smirked instead of punishing him. “Oh, I don't need to, kid. I've got all of you to do it for me.”

If Dick hadn't been bone-deep exhausted and aching in every part of his body, he probably would have given into the urge to deck the bastard. Instead, he gestured weakly towards his clothes on the floor. The two men ignored him and marched him toward the door instead.

“Clothes would be nice.”

Again, they ignored him and then continued out the door. Great. Walking around naked and covered in other people's bodily fluids it was. And just when he had thought the day couldn't get any worse.

Dick tried his best to focus on his surroundings on the walk to the medical section of the building, but concentrating was difficult. Every part of his body complained with every step, and he kept losing track of what he had observed already. And then he got frustrated with himself and that stressed him out further and that stress made the pain worse and that in turn worsened his concentration again.

Most of the medical staff were middle-aged men, but there were two younger people working as nurses. A man and a woman with dead eyes and scarred skin who didn't seem much older than Luke. The woman cleaned and dressed Dick's injuries and gave him some water to drink. The young man brought him clean clothes to wear; they were basically long, grey pyjamas, the type the kids in the dormitory had been wearing but Dick hadn't paid it much mind at the time. There had been too much to think about at once.

Dick then used the shower in the next room. Brian watched the whole time and Dick thought he was going to bash his own head against the wall if the man didn't stop _fucking staring_.

Brian and the other man walked him back to the dormitory afterwards. Dick steeled himself as they reached the door. He wasn't yet sure how the dynamics of the group worked in this place, but he was pretty sure showing too much weakness on the first day, given he wasn't a young child, was probably frowned upon.

He entered the room, leaving his captors behind. Luke, who had been tucking in a bed of three young children, looked up and jerked his head towards the bed Dick had been assigned. Dick nodded at him and picked his way around the other beds to get there.

Brandon and Bethany had waited up for him, sitting on the edge of the bed as if they hadn't moved an inch since he'd left.

“You okay?” Bethany asked.

“I'll live.” Anything more than that was asking too much of Dick right now. Bethany, just like before, grabbed his hand and squeezed. Dick squeezed back.

“We should sleep,” Brandon chimed in. “They do bed checks here and we'll get in trouble if we're not in bed in like ten minutes.”

The climbed into bed. Dick ended up in the centre with the kids half-lying on him. That was the last thing he wanted after what had just happened. He had to resist the urge to kick out. He held himself still while the children fell asleep. He could feel panic coming on, but he couldn't let it get the better of him, not until no one was awake to witness it. He had to hold it in. Breathe slowly. Hold it in.

Hold it in hold it—oh.

They were asleep.

He tried to keep his breathing quiet, even as it tumbled out of control. He tried to deepen his breaths and slow them down but he couldn't and his eyes were prickling and everything hurt and his cheeks were wet and his chest was constricting and

Bethany slowly stroked his arm. “Shh,” she whispered. “Shh.”

It helped. Barely. Dick opened his mouth and throat wide to soften the sobs he couldn't stop. His breaths rattled and hurt his throat. But he stopped holding back and let it all happen. He hadn't been able to contain it anyway.

He was scared. Completely terrified. He had no idea where he was or if anybody would be able to find him. He could get stuck here for years for all he knew. He could end up being like those two nurses: compliant, devoid of hope and completely dead inside. He had to get out and get everyone else out before that happened.

He just had no idea how to do that.

* * *

Waking up the next morning brought pain. Total pain. Luke took pity on him and slipped him some aspirin with a single gulp of water. Dick didn't bother asking where he'd gotten it.

Everybody was shepherded into the cafeteria shortly afterwards, still rubbing sleep out of their eyes and working aches out of muscles and joints. The benches were rigid and cold and, quite frankly, Dick would have preferred to stand. He'd found blood in his underwear during the brief moment in the bathroom he got before coming here. Today was going to be hell.

The food was completely unappetising. Lumpy porridge with some shrivelled fruit was the order of the day. The porridge looked like snot, which didn't help matters.

“You need to eat,” Bethany murmured to him.

“You'll get in trouble if you don't,” Brandon added. “You don't want to know what that means.”

Dick believed them. So he suffered through the porridge that was every bit as disgusting as it looked and choked down a few pieces of the squishiest fruit he'd ever had the misfortune of eating.

Everybody was shut back up in the dormitory afterwards. Dick sat on the bed he shared with Brandon and Bethany and had a think.

He couldn't escape right now. He didn't know where he was or how to get out. Any attempt would likely get himself and somebody else killed. He needed to build on what little work he had done yesterday and learn the layout of this place best he could. He had to learn the rhythms and schedules that made this place tick.

If what Brandon had said last night was any indication, this place was some kind of child brothel. Maybe he could try gathering evidence on the clients so they wouldn't worm their way out of punishment once the whole operation was brought down. And it would be brought down. It had to be. This place had been his team's mission for months now. It had just gotten a bit more personal than anybody had planned.

Dick took a deep breath and let it fall out of him slowly. He could do this. He'd survived a place like this before. The men there had been after personal gratification more than making money, but overall Dick doubted it would make much difference. It was run by the same guy, after all.

Luke came up to him after a while. “Have Bethany and Brandon explained what happens here?”

“Brandon mentioned something yesterday,” Dick replied. “I take it this is a brothel?”

Luke nodded. “Since you're new, they'll definitely have you see some clients today. We don't work all the time, but new people always do.”

“Got it.”

“Just be calm, don't fight them and you'll come out of it okay. Everything I told you last night still applies.” Luke patted his shoulder. “It'll take some adjusting at first, but you'll get used to it. Everyone does.”

“That doesn't seem like a good thing.”

Luke shrugged. “It's all we can do. Rest up. The clients start coming in about an hour.”

“I can hardly wait,” Dick muttered, bringing his feet up onto the bed. He managed to doze a little bit for the next hour next to Brandon and Bethany. He woke some time later when one of the few older girls sat on the bed beside them. The twins kept sleeping.

“Hi,” the girl said. “I'm Amber.”

“Richard,” Dick replied, rolling over to see her face. She was a pretty girl with soft brown hair and hazel eyes.

“The Grayson kid, right?”

“I take it you haven't been here long.”

“About four months, yeah. So I was around long enough to hear you weren't dead anymore. Luke doesn't know who you are yet. He's been here for nearly a decade.”

Dick sat up. “ _What_?”

“I was surprised, too,” said Amber. “You'd think Batman would've shut this place down by now, but apparently these guys are too good at hiding.”

“That's one hell of an oversight.” Even the most proficient criminals Dick had run across had never been able to fly under Batman's radar for that long. Something was seriously wrong here.

“They move us around a lot,” Amber explained. “Sometimes they take us out of Gotham entirely, but that hasn't happened while I've been around. And we're not always watched by the same people. I think they rotate. That probably helps keep the law off their backs.”

Great. Wonderful. Dick was fresh out of optimism for today. And probably the next week. And forever.

“They must have powerful friends,” Dick commented. “There's no way they would've stayed under the police's radar on their own.”

“You're probably right. Too bad we can't do anything about it from in here.”

Dick had every intention of digging up these people's deepest, darkest secrets at the first opportunity. They were going to pay for everything they had done and would do before he'd be able to get away from them.

Some new men Dick hadn't seen before arrived to start escorting kids out. The first beckoned to him. Dick forced himself to get up and follow him, even as every part of him screamed at him to dig in his heels and fight back, damn it.

They took him into one of the rooms in the green hallway on the other side of the cafeteria. The client wasn't there yet. Dick sat on the edge of the bed—the sheets were cheap throwaways for reasons he really didn't want to think about—and took a moment to breathe. This client couldn't possibly do anything worse than what had been done to him last night. The lingering pain from that would complicate things, however.

The door opened and a man in a suit stepped in. Dick vaguely recognised him, but couldn't put a name to the face. He had probably talked business with Bruce or one of his subordinates at some point. That was generally where he saw businesspeople who weren't wealthy enough to warrant an invitation to the various socialites' balls.

The man loosened his tie and smirked down at Dick, who tried very hard to keep his face blank. This was bad enough already without aggravating his first paying rapist. If he was compliant enough, maybe he could lull this guy into complacency so he could swipe some kind of ID. A driver's licence would be the most obvious, but a company ID or something could work just as well.

Dick gritted his teeth as the man undressed him. Forced himself to relax as he did as he willed. An indeterminate time later, the man got up to use the adjacent bathroom, and Dick dashed for the man's slacks. Just as he'd hoped, he found a wallet with a driver's licence in it. He quickly swiped it, replaced the wallet and hid the licence in a slit he'd managed to tear into the hem of his pants, between the folds of fabric.

Dick repeated this pattern for the other four clients after that. It kept him calm. Made breathing easier. There wasn't much he could do in his position, but he could gather evidence to incriminate these bastards once he had a way out.

He was returned to the dormitory alongside a stream of battered, exhausted children. Bethany had developed a tummy ache over the course of the day, but she waved off everybody's concern.

“I got punched in the gut a few times.” She shrugged. “It's fine.”

She curled up in bed, Brandon hovering close to her. Dick stood with Amber nearby—neither felt much like sitting after the day they'd had—and watched over the twins while they waited for dinnertime.

“How are you holding up?” Amber asked him.

“Okay, I guess. Considering the circumstances.” Dick kind of wanted to melt into a puddle and get washed away into the pipes and never feel anything ever again. But Amber didn't need to hear that.

“The first day's always hard,” she told him, dropping her voice. “And so are the ones after that, obviously. But the first day's the biggest shock. It turns into a routine after a while. Not that it's a good thing, but it dulls the sting a bit at least.”

“I'd rather not stick around long enough to get to that stage,” Dick murmured. “But I don't exactly have a lot of control over that.”

“Yeah. It's a shame.” Amber leaned close to his ear. “Make sure you get whatever's in the hem of your pants out before wash day. That's in two days' time. I'll find you a spare pillowcase.”

“Thanks.”

Luke came by to touch base after that, and, frankly, the guy set all kinds of alarm bells off in Dick's head so all discussion of unapproved activities ended immediately for the night.

 


	20. Fear and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and the team put rescue plans into action, but the situation on Dick's end continues to worsen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-consensual drug use and hallucinations in this chapter, and the child rape warning is still in effect.

Batman didn't bother to hide his grim satisfaction at the sight of Skinner soaring through a window and smashing the glass. He landed hard on his coffee table and the thing snapped under his weight. Batman drove a knee into the bastard's chest and sat there.

“I know what you are,” he growled. “I know what you've done.”

Skinner swallowed audibly, before affecting a nonchalant expression that didn't mesh well with his bloodied nose and cut up face. “I'm a history teacher. The worst thing I've done is fail a kid's paper.”

“You only started teaching at Gotham Academy last year.” Batman pressed his knee down harder. “Your credentials are weak. Your identity is flimsy. I will find a hole and I will push until every single one of your lies is torn apart at the seams. You will regret the crimes you committed in my city, and the ones you committed outside of it.” He slammed Skinner's head against the wood beneath him. “When I'm through with you, when the people you've harmed finally have their justice, you will _beg_ me to kill you.”

Skinner coughed weakly. “Big talk. Where are the cops if you're so sure I'm a criminal?”

“They'll come when I want them to come.” Batman placed a hand on Skinner's throat and squeezed just enough to make him wheeze and fight for breath. While doing that, he placed a gel containing a microscopic tracking device on another part of his neck, which would soon be absorbed into the skin. Skinner wouldn't notice; he was already lying in a puddle of water from a jug he'd smashed when he fell on the table. A little extra liquid made no difference.

Batman let him go. Skinner's skull bounced off the wood and he sat up, rubbing the spot.

“You've got nothing on me,” said Skinner. “You would've had me arrested already if you did. You're just fishing.”

“You sound guilty, Skinner.” Batman headed for the window. “Slip up, and I will find you.” He jumped out the window. Skinner shouted something after him, but it didn't really matter. He'd done what he went to the man's house to do. All he needed to do was wait for Skinner to return to wherever he was keeping Dick.

Batman slid into the car and radioed Alfred. “Alfred, I've planted the tracker. Let me know as soon as it's viable.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“And make sure the team has the frequency.”

“Sending it now, sir. Do you intend to allow their assistance in this matter?”

“If Dick's been sent to the same place the trafficked children are being held, I'll need backup.” As loathe as he was to admit it. “The team has been investigating these people for months.”

“And you fear mutiny should you keep them from rescuing Master Dick.”

“Exactly.” They already had enough to deal with. Letting the team get involved was the easiest way to appease them. The trafficked children would likely respond better to the team than to Batman as well, given the age difference. It wasn't unreasonable to assume the children would not trust adults easily, but may be more willing to listen to people closer to their age.

“Kid Flash wishes to speak with you, sir.”

“Patch him through.”

“Hey, Batman.” Even through the slightly scratchy comm link, the strain in Wally's voice was impossible to miss. “We just got the tracker frequency. Robin and I are putting it into as many devices we can so we're ready the instant we've got a location.”

“Wait for my signal,” Batman told him. “And be prepared to wait a few days. Skinner will most likely avoid his base of operations while he believes I'm tailing him.”

“Gotta wait for him to get comfortable. Got it.”

“How is the team holding up?”

“We're hanging in there,” Kid Flash replied. “Mostly. There's been some crying and swearing and I think Aqualad cursed the gods in Atlantean but I can't say for sure. Miss Martian's burning cookies again, Artemis is angry at the world and Superboy's glaring at things so nothing new there. Zatanna kicked a chair and then turned it into a pile of splinters because it hurt her foot. She fixed it, though, so don't worry about replacing it.”

Batman had half a mind to cut off Kid Flash's ramble, but the noise was actually somewhat comforting. Which was not something he would usually call the noise coming out of a speedster's mouth.

“Rocket's training hard with Aqualad. I might join them after Robin and I are done putting the tracker frequency into everything we can find, but I might not because I don't feel like losing an arm. Those two are really going for it and it's actually starting to scare me a bit.”

“I'll send Black Canary your way to make sure nothing is permanently damaged,” Batman replied. “Let me know when you're finished working.”

“Will do.” Wally's sigh rippled through the comm. “We're gonna get him back, right? In one piece?”

“Yes. And the other children. I'm going to patrol. Batman out.”

* * *

Bethany was definitely sick, along with a dozen other kids. Not a lot was being done about it, except Luke had been able to convince their captors to part with some extra buckets for vomiting, and weaken the bathroom restrictions for the kids whose bowels couldn't hold on anymore. Quarantine would have been ideal, at least on an intellectual level, but nobody offered to do that. Dick was partially glad for that, since it meant he could keep an eye on Bethany and the other sick children himself, but it was also terrible because it encouraged the disease to spread.

“It's nearly breakfast,” Amber told Brandon and Dick, who were hovering over Bethany as she was sick in a bucket. Bethany groaned in response to the news.

“You have to come,” Brandon said. “You know they'll come get you if you don't.”

Bethany pushed herself upright and retched into the bucket again. Amber passed over a fresh bucket and Dick handed her the old one to clean out. He rubbed Bethany's back.

“We'll go slowly and carefully, okay?” he said. “I'm sure the guys in charge would rather we dawdle than have anybody mess up the floor.”

Dick and Brandon pulled Bethany to her feet and slowly joined the crowd going out the door. Amber was caring for another sick child nearby. This was getting ridiculous. Dick would have thought Skinner's people would at least want to avoid infecting their clients if nothing else.

They reached the cafeteria and gently set Bethany down on the bench. Her face was a sickly grey, like the porridge they were about to eat. Brandon put a small portion into her bowl. Bethany groaned and pushed it away.

“Beth, you know how things work here,” Brandon whispered. “If you don't eat, they punish you.”

Dick still hadn't witnessed this punishment, but he didn't want to ask what it entailed. It was clearly bad enough that nobody wanted to risk it.

Dick and Brandon got started on their porridge. Bethany took a bite before shaking her head and putting down the spoon. One of the guards noticed, and starting moving towards them.

“Shit,” Brandon muttered. “Beth, you have to eat.”

“I can't,” Bethany snapped.

“Is there a problem here?” The guard was one of the men who'd been involved in Dick's initiation.

“No,” Brandon said quickly.

“Then tell your little sister to eat her food.”

Bethany trembled in her seat, but shook her head.

“A lot of kids are sick right now,” Dick said. “If she could eat, she would.” Dick was rewarded with a backhand across his face that left his cheek stinging.

“I didn't ask your opinion, brat.” The guard yanked Bethany out of her seat and threw her onto the floor. “The little girl knows the rules.” He lowered the zipper on his jeans, and Dick was struck with understanding. “If she won't eat, I'll make her eat something else.”

“Do something,” Brandon hissed to Dick. “Protect her. Please.”

“Okay, look.” Dick climbed out of his seat and grabbed the back of Brandon's shirt before he made any sudden movements, even as the kid was practically frothing with rage. “I get you don't want any of us going on a hunger strike or something. But punishing a sick kid for not being able to eat isn't going to do anything. She's still going to be sick when you're finished with her.”

“Not my concern.” The guard grabbed Bethany by the hair and dragged her closer. Brandon wrenched free of Dick's grip and dived at the guard. Dick tried to catch him, but the kid was faster then he looked.

Brandon got a few punches in before the guard seized him by the scruff of his neck and slammed his face against the table. Bethany shrieked and tried to scramble to her feet. Dick grabbed hold of her before she could get far.

Luke got up from the table and rushed over. “Hey, come on. The kid's learned his lesson.”

“Sit down, Luke.” The guard seized Brandon by the neck and smacked his head against the concrete floor. Brandon choked in response.

“Let go of him!” Bethany screamed. She struggled against Dick's grip. Dick wanted to jump into the fray himself, but--

“Keep her out of this, Dick,” Luke warned him, even as the guard started punching Brandon's face with his free hand. Brandon's legs jerked with every hit and Bethany's screams reached an ear-splitting pitch. Dick tightened his hold on her, hating himself for having to choose between stopping her from getting hurt and saving her brother. Even if he did manage to get the guard off Brandon, there were a dozen other men in the room ready to intervene. It wouldn't end well for any of them.

And so Dick had to watch as the guard pounded Brandon's face until it turned into a lump of bloody flesh, and he stopped struggling. Bethany gagged and threw up what little she had eaten onto the floor. Dick pulled her away from it when she was done.

The guard straightened, his hands covered in Brandon's blood. “Bring the girl to me.”

“You just murdered her brother,” Dick snapped. “I think that's punishment enough, don't you?”

“Whatever. Somebody clean this mess up.” The guard stormed out of the room. Bethany fell limp in Dick's arms. She was still conscious, but barely. Amber rushed over and helped Dick lift her.

“Luke, she needs a bed,” she called. Luke nodded. One of the guards led the three of them, plus Luke, back to the dormitory.

Bethany curled up in her bed the instant they set her down. Amber cuddled up against her back and Dick sat beside them. Luke stood a few feet away, watching.

“Are you sure there wasn't anything else you could do?” Dick asked him.

“I'm sure. I may have more pull with these guys than most of you, but that doesn't mean much when they're already angry. Good work keeping Bethany out of it.”

“I don't feel comfortable with the way that went down,” Dick replied. “I feel like I should've tried to stop it.”

“You would've been killed instead,” Luke said.

“Unlikely. I come from a wealthy family. I'd be worth quite a lot to them. They went out of their way to grab me specifically.”

“Weird.”

“I take it that doesn't happen often.”

“No. Skinner usually prefers grabbing kids nobody will miss.” Luke frowned. “Would I know your family?”

“I'm Bruce Wayne's ward, if that means anything to you. I know you've been here a while.”

“I know about Bruce Wayne,” Luke replied. “At least enough to know Skinner took a huge risk taking you.” He looked to Bethany, who was sobbing loudly into the pillow. “In any case, they would've hurt you considerably if you'd tried to stop Williams from killing Brandon. It's sucks, but that's the way things work around here. You did the right thing.”

“It sure doesn't feel like it,” Dick muttered.

Bethany kept crying.

* * *

Despite what happened that morning, Dick was forced to see a set of clients so he left Bethany in Amber's care. He didn't want to leave her, but Skinner's people had already been aggravated enough today. Even if he hadn't been concerned for his own safety, standing up to these people and facing personal consequences would just upset Bethany even further. And Bethany could barely stay conscious after the shock of the morning. Being as weak as she was, anything worse would probably kill her. Dick refused to be responsible for that.

The first few clients weren't al that different from yesterday. Dick swiped their IDs and had just enough time to stash them in the pillowcase Amber had given him and pat a very feverish Bethany on the head before being sent out to see one more.

His final client of the day was a twitchy, weedy little man with overlong stringy hair falling over one eye. Dick's first thought was how easy it would be to take him down. He wasn't much taller than Dick was.

Dick stayed still as the man approached him and pulled a box out of his dirty trenchcoat. He opened the box to reveal a needle, and Dick was not having that.

“You're not sticking that in me.”

“The customer is always right, kid. Hold still.”

Dick smacked his hand away. “Piss off.”

The man grabbed his wrist with a stronger grip than Dick had expected. “Struggling will only make it hurt more.” Dick tried to pull away, but his wrist was still tender from the first night. The needle pierced his skin. He tried to rip it out with his free hand but the man shoved him down onto his back.

Dick glared up at him, and soon the face above him wavered and his eyes glowed red and oh shit he'd been dosed with a liquidised form of fear gas. Since when did the Scarecrow give his out his work to random pedophiles?

“ _There_ we go.” The man's voice gained a demonic timbre, as if three people were speaking at once at an unnaturally deep pitch.

Knife-like fingers tore at Dick's clothes and he kicked and punched everything within reach. The demon laughed at his efforts and pressed against him with burning flesh, covering every inch of his body, both outside and in, choking him in heat and scorching his skin. His fucking _brain_ was on fire and it wouldn't stop. It just kept building and building and the demon rended his flesh and dug out his organs even as Dick screamed and cried and fought with everything he had.

And eventually more demons came and held him down and said things he couldn't understand and then they hauled him out of the room and down a corridor that was crawling with insects and spiders and the walls were coated in burning gasoline and somebody far away was laughing and the laughter drew closer and closer until it filled Dick up and then he was laughing too and his captors squeezed their claws around his throat but the laughter kept wheezing out of him anyway until

he was thrown into a new room and shut inside

alone with that awful laughter

and Dick choked on it and collapsed on the floor and bugs leapt onto him and then somehow he was on fire and it roared in his ears and drowned out the laughter and burnt away his flesh and the remnants of his organs and licked his bones

there were hands on him but he couldn't see anybody or hear anything and he tried to wriggle away from them but they just followed him wherever he went and they were hot and sweaty and disgusting and they groped and grabbed him wherever they could and he just wanted to break all their fingers and smash them all to a bloody pulp if he could _just get a grip on them_.

Then Dick found a mattress. His hand sunk into it and kept sinking and sinking and instead of trying to pull free he rolled onto it fully and let the rest of him fall.

If it brought him away from the bugs and the fire and the hands all over his body, maybe sinking into nothingness wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

Batman wasn't available to follow the tracker when it finally paid off. The team prepared to leave, checking their equipment with one ear listening to Batman on the screen in the bioship.

“This is a rescue mission,” Batman reminded them for the seventh time at least. “Completely covert. No explosions until the children are safe. Understand?”

“We understand,” Aqualad replied, placing his waterbearers into the slots on his back.

“Have fun with Penguin,” said Robin. Batman grumbled incoherently and severed the connection.

“Is everybody ready?” asked Aqualad. Upon receiving the team's assent, he directed Miss Martian to begin the flight. They would need the bioship to evacuate the kids.

That said, though, Kid Flash kind of wished they were taking the zeta tube instead. His leg bounced up and down impatiently, faster and faster until Artemis kicked his chair to make him stop. This waiting was killing him. Every moment they wasted meant more horrors were being unleashed on Dick and his fellow captors and he just wanted it to stop.

The journey seemed to take forever, but at long last their reached their drop zone. Miss Martian scouted ahead to find them a path that wouldn't alert anybody in the building to their presence.

“ **There are security cameras in every corridor,”** Miss Martian told the others.

“ **Can you do something about that, Robin?”** asked Aqualad.

Robin opened up his wrist computer. **“Batman gave me a program that can latch onto wireless signals. If the cameras use that kind of tech, I should be able to loop them on a single image long enough for us to get in and out.”** He pressed a few buttons. **“We're in luck. The cameras are wireless.”**

“ **Have you found the children yet, Miss Martian?”**

“ **Just found them.”**

“ **Very well. Robin, loop the image and we will head inside.”**

Robin did so and the team slipped through a back door Miss Martian had unlocked from the inside. She met them halfway to their destination and led them the rest of the way.

The room they entered was full of metal beds, most of which were occupied by three children each. A few of the children twitched, but didn't get up. Superboy switched on the light, and most of the kids leapt to their feet.

One of the oldest charged forward. “Who the hell are you?”

“We're the Justice League's junior team,” said Artemis.

“We're here to rescue you,” Kid Flash added. A few of the kids stepped towards the team, but the older boy held out his arm.

“Do you have any idea what these people will do to us if they find out you're here?”

“I promise that will not happen if we leave immediately,” Aqualad replied.

Kid Flash scanned the room, but he couldn't see Dick's face anywhere. He would have come forward if he was in the room, wouldn't he?

“Is this everyone?” Kid Flash asked. Luke nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Were you looking for somebody in particular?”

“Richard Grayson,” Kid Flash replied. It wasn't like they had anything to lose at that point.

“Sorry. I don't know anybody by that name. Now, please, get out of here before you're discovered.”

“We came here to rescue you,” said Superboy. “We're not just going to leave you here.”

“Better you leave us here than attempt a rescue and fail.”

“But, Luke,” said an older girl with brown hair, “we've got sick kids here. They need a hospital.”

“All the more reason to stay put,” Luke replied. “They'd just slow us down and make it even more likely that we'll be found out.”

“ **We have to do something,”** Kid Flash said over the link.

“So you speak for everybody, do you?” said Artemis. “Shouldn't you let them decide for themselves?”

“Anybody who leaves, even if they manage to escape, will just make it harder for those of us who stay,” Luke replied. “We're not going anywhere. Please leave before our bosses come for a bedcheck. They're due any minute now.”

“ **We cannot risk a confrontation with so many potential hostages,”** Aqualad link-spoke.

“ **You're not seriously considering leaving them here, are you?”** Robin replied incredulously.

“ **If we cannot convince them to leave with us, we may have no choice.”**

“ **Bullshit,”** Kid Flash snapped.

“ **If anybody dies because we tried to force an escape and end up in a fight, we'll have blood on our hands,”** said Artemis. **“I don't want to leave them either, but we don't have a lot of options here.”**

“There's no time left,” said Luke. “Please. Go. You'll do more for us in leaving than if you tried to break us out.”

They didn't have time to argue. The team turned around and left the way they had come.

“ **I can't believe we're doing this,”** said Kid Flash.

“ **Of all the nights for the Penguin to wreak havoc in the city, he had to pick the one when we needed Batman the most,”** said Zatanna.

“ **Yeah, he could've convinced everyone to leave without even trying,”** Robin replied. **“Hell, Nightwing probably could've done it. But we're shit out of luck on that front, too.”**

They got back in the bioship. Kid Flash kind of wanted to throw himself out of it once they were in the air.

“Skinner must have multiple bases,” he said.

“Or that Luke kid was lying to us about Dick,” Artemis replied.

Kid Flash pulled off his cowl and became Wally again, and Wally slumped in his seat. “This shouldn't have happened.”

“Agreed,” said Kaldur.

“Something was up with that Luke kid, let's be honest,” said Zatanna. “We shouldn't have trusted him.”

Wally groaned and buried his head in his hands. What a bullshit night this had been. Kaldur visibly steeled himself, and put in the call to Batman that nobody wanted to make.

* * *

Dick woke a few days later in a veritable pool of his own seat. And probably piss. He had been pretty out of it and it was unlikely he'd been able to work the toilet in the room during that time. His stomach ached, but he wasn't sure if that was due to the toxin, not being able to eat or if he had caught the same thing Bethany had.

Dick sat up. He was in a small concrete room, kind of like a cell. There was a metal toilet and sink along one wall. The mattress he sat on was directly on the floor. There was a small flap under the metal door, presumably for delivering food. There was nothing there at present.

So these people had solitary confinement cells. Lovely.

The door opened and Brian, the driving force behind Dick's initiation and absolutely the last person he felt like seeing right now, stepped inside. “So, you're finally done screaming.”

“How about I dose you with concentrated fear gas and see how well you cope without a fucking antidote,” Dick snapped. Brian pulled him to his feet, a little rougher than he would have liked but actually pretty gentle for the bastard's standards.

“Shut your hole, kid, before I lose my temper.”

“You have a temper?”

Brian growled and shoved Dick out the door. “We're moving house.”

“Is there a reason, or did you all get sick of staring at concrete?”

“Ask Luke. I can barely talk to you without wanting to punch you.”

“I'd appreciate a shower first. Preferably one without some creepy asshole staring at me.”

Brian took him to the showers and, to Dick's complete and utter sarcastic joy, joined him in there. The shower took at least twice as long as it should have, because the fucker would not stop touching him.

By the time Dick finally got back to the dormitory, he really wanted to punch somebody. Luke met him at the door.

“Get ready to leave,” Luke said. “We'll be moving soon.”

“I heard,” Dick replied dryly. “Brian told me to ask you why.”

“We had a break-in a few days ago,” Luke explained. “Weird kids in costumes. They had to leave rather than risk getting us all killed.”

So the team had found him after all. Of fucking course they had to come when Dick wasn't around. He broke off the conversation with Luke and headed over to his bed. Bethany wasn't there.

“A lot happened while you were away,” Amber said. “What happened to you?”

“Fear gas. What happened here?”

“Some superhero kids came by and tried to get us to leave,” Amber explained. “I was all for it, but Luke convinced them it'd be too risky for us. They asked for you by name but Luke said you weren't here.”

Luke could officially go fuck himself.

“And where's Bethany?”

“She died yesterday.” Amber's face twitched into something resembling sadness, but she covered it up almost instantly. “Being sick, losing her brother, not knowing where you were... it was too much for her in the end.”

Dick collapsed onto the bed. “Damn it.”

“Yeah.” Amber settled herself down next to him. “At least they can't hurt her anymore.”

Dick snorted, his fingernails digging into his palms. “Some comfort that is. She never should have been here in the first place. None of us should be here.”

“Well, that's not the reality. Wishful thinking isn't going to help us.” Amber discreetly passed him the pillowcase of IDs. It was small enough to fit under Dick's clothes for the time being, but soon it would get harder to hide. Hopefully, after this move, they would all get to stay put for a while.

Not that it mattered in the end, really. With one failed rescue already stacked up against him, Dick was fresh out of optimism. The instant he was moved to a new place with everyone else, what little progress the team had made would be washed away.

Two dead kids. Days lost to fear gas. A failed rescue. The cards were being dealt. It didn't take an expert at the game to know that Dick was coming up with a losing hand. And, this time, bluffing wouldn't save him.

 


	21. Hills and Valleys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick works through both high points and low points, and Batman and the team keep pushing forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual assault of minors is still occurring. 
> 
> Also watch out for a character's suicide attempt if that content triggers you. I did a little research about it, but I don't have the same amount of information as I've had about people dealing with rape, since I've been privy to online discussions about rape for a number of years. I hope it's not a disrespectful or jarringly unrealistic portrayal, at the very least.

The journey to the new base was full of road bumps that went straight to Dick's stomach. He was crammed in the back of a truck with all the other kids. There was a lot of vomiting going on around him, and it was pushing him to his own limit. The sounds of retching and splashing, the stench of acid.

Amber passed him a bucket just in time.

By the time they finally reached their destination, even kids who weren't sick had thrown up a bit. There was absolutely no ventilation in there, so when the doors were opened everybody sucked in a huge gulp of fresh air.

Dick's legs were jelly when he stepped out of the truck, but he tried to take in his surroundings all the same. The building was a huge grey block, because apparently these bastards really liked depressing colours, set inside a large clearing surrounding by forest. They had officially left Gotham, but judging from the relatively short journey—even though it had felt like an eternity—they hadn't gone especially far.

Another truck pulled up, carrying a second load of children, presumably from another location. These people had far too many resources.

Armed guards forced everyone inside, and Dick lost track of Amber in the crowd. He got stuck with Luke instead, along with a nearly uncontrollable urge to punch him.

“How are you feeling?” Luke asked him.

“Don't talk to me,” Dick snapped. “I know what you did and I am through with giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“I was just trying to protect everybody.”

“No. You weren't.” Dick stepped closer to Luke, forcing him to back into a wall. “And even if it were true, how do you justify outright lying about me?”

“I couldn't afford to have them running through the place trying to find you,” Luke justified. “They would've been caught and we would've been punished.”

Dick jabbed a finger into Luke's chest. “Bullshit. Everything you have said and everything you have done benefits our captors in some way or another. Maybe you've got the others convinced you're looking out for their best interests, but you can't fool me. So don't even try.” Dick stepped back as he saw one of the guards move towards them. The guard shoved him along.

To Dick's chagrin, there were two dormitories on opposite sides of the building. And he got stuck with the one Luke was in, while Amber ended up in the other one. He shouldn't have been surprised. Things hadn't exactly been going well for him lately.

On the upside, he got a bed to himself. But that was likely because he was sick. Or maybe Luke was trying to isolate him. Who knew?

Sleeping was difficult, owing to the sounds of kids vomiting and groaning, on top of Dick's own nausea. He was still tired and incredibly grouchy by the time morning showed up. He half-wanted to punch somebody and half-wanted to vomit his guts out. Preferably not at the same time. That'd be gross.

Dick dragged his sorry ass out of bed and followed everyone out to breakfast. He fell onto the bench—this cafeteria looked nearly identical to the one he'd left behind, except it was bigger—and Amber snagged the seat beside him.

“You look like hell,” she said, half-filling his bowl with revolting porridge. Dick hadn't thought he could be any more turned-off by that shit, but here he was, proving himself wrong. He groaned quietly, picking up his spoon. His stomach rolled inside him. This must have been how Bethany felt before she--

He quickly put a lid on that thought and scooped up a spoonful of porridge. It reminded him of thick, food-laden vomit. He stuck the spoon in his mouth, swallowed and immediately shuddered as his throat protested. Eating wasn't going to happen today. He either had to hope the guards didn't notice, or try not to puke during the punishment except there was no way he wouldn't puke today if somebody stuck a sex organ down his throat. No way around it. He could either eat and puke, or get orally raped and puke anyway.

He tried a few more mouthfuls of porridge, but had to stop before it all came back up right into the bowl. And, of course, Brian was guarding them today. Because the universe had decided Dick didn't have enough shit to deal with yet.

“I knew you'd slip up sooner or later,” Brian said, a heavy hand falling on Dick's shoulder.

“You know he's going to puke all over you,” Amber said. “I hope you don't like your shoes.”

“He better not.” Brian leaned right into Dick's ear, the pitch of his voice dropping to a stomach-churning rumble. “Or I might just have to find another punishment. Isn't that right, Richard?”

Dick glared across the room, where Luke was very deliberately not seeing him. He hadn't really expected any help after what he'd said yesterday, to be honest. And Amber knew better than to put herself in the middle of things, especially after what happened to Brandon.

He shut that thought down, too.

Brian dragged him from the bench and dropped him onto the floor. Dick's knees landed first, and bloomed with pain. Brian grabbed him by the hair and pushed into his mouth. Dick started gagging immediately, but Brian ignored him and started to shove down his throat.

Somebody was shouting, but Dick couldn't make out the words. He choked and gagged until he finally managed to pull away and vomit onto the floor beside him.

“You know,” said Amber, “if you don't want this shit to happen, you should probably treat the kids who get sick rather than try to shove your dick down their throats whenever they can't eat.”

“What's going on here?” Skinner, of all people, had decided to show up. Dick picked himself up off the floor.

“Our good friend Brian decided to ignore my warnings about shoving things down sick people's throats,” Amber added. Dick wished she'd shut up before they turned on her.

“I've got the same thing that's already killed a few kids,” he said. “I'm assuming you don't want that to happen to me, since you went to so much effort to kidnap me from my own home. I thought you would've started treating kids sooner, even if it was just to protect your investment and stop your clients from getting infected, but apparently logic is in short supply here.”

Skinner's fist crashed into Dick's cheekbone, sending him back to the floor. “Shut up. Brian, get somebody to clean up that mess. Luke, round up the sick kids.”

If Dick had been in a better mood, he might have gloated. As it was, though, he was spending most of his strength trying not to puke again.

* * *

Most of the sick kids were very young and incredibly dehydrated. A few died that night. The rest survived long enough for the medical staff to hydrate them using intravenous drips. Dick was actually better off than most of them, maybe because he was in the earlier stages.

Being stuck in bed for days on end, however, gave him way too much time to think. The team's rescue had failed. Luke had shown his true colours. They had been moved to a new, more remote location and their captors were definitely more on guard than they had been before. Bethany and Brandon were dead. And Dick had been separated from Amber, the one person he was able to trust in this hellhole.

Oh, and he and the other kids were being raped on a near-daily basis and couldn't even go to the fucking bathroom without somebody watching them. Dick kind of wanted to scratch out his own eyes because at least then he wouldn't be able to see the looks his captors gave him. Like he was a piece of meat. Or a sex toy to be dug out and fucked when convenient and then cast violently aside until the next time they felt like sticking their genitals in something.

The nurses had him taking pain pills for his stomach, since the sicker kids were using up the IV meds, but Dick had a high tolerance for pain so he just hid them instead. He wasn't completely set on a course of action, but something was definitely forming in the back of his mind.

He was trapped here. He couldn't save himself. He couldn't save anyone else. What had happened to Brandon and Bethany made that abundantly clear.

But there was a way out. If he could get enough pills during his stay in this hospital bed. He was an expert at hiding things in beds and pyjamas at this point. The IDs he'd stolen were still safely hidden. Amber would know where they were, even if anything happened to him. She would take care of them if he couldn't. Somehow.

It wasn't like he was helping anybody by sticking around. And it wasn't like he'd hurt anybody if he was gone. Except Amber. But she'd been fine before he showed up. She was fine after what happened to Brandon and Bethany. She'd be fine if something happened to him. She had the strength that he lacked.

Help wasn't coming. Somewhere, deep inside, Dick knew that Bruce and Wally and Jason and the team would keep looking for him, but with each passing day it got harder to hold out. It had been two weeks. Dick hadn't realised how much time had passed until Amber had told him during the truck ride, before Dick had become violently ill. He had lost more time to the fear gas than he'd thought.

Dick spent the next week in that hospital bed, slowly collecting the pills. The young nurses didn't notice he wasn't taking them. Either he was too good an actor, or they were too out of it. Or both. He also managed to swipe some some different pills that probably had different drugs in them. The other kids weren't being given oral medication; he wasn't taking anything from them, and it was rare that any kid was given pain medication due to injuries unless Luke decided they should have some. And that didn't happen often. Dick hadn't received anything from him since initiation. It was more likely that he was taking medication away from the staff, and he couldn't give less of a shit about any pain they might go through.

By the time he was released back into the rest of the compound, he had several mouthfuls of pills. Instead of going back to the dormitory, he was sent to one of the client rooms.

As always, the client wasn't there yet. There was a plastic cup of water on the bedside table, ostensibly for the client, but that didn't matter. He didn't know how much time he had and he sure as hell wasn't going to let anybody get in the way of his only escape so he started popping as many pills as he could at once, then drinking them down, then popping more, until he'd taken them all.

Then he sat on the bed to wait. The client didn't come. Usually they were here by now.

Dick felt nausea coming on. He held it back. How long was this going to take? Maybe he should have thought of an alternative. A noose out of bedsheets? But there was nowhere to hang it in here. The ceiling was smooth. Whatever. He didn't really care anymore.

He lay down on the bed after a while and closed his eyes. He felt sleepy. This wouldn't be so bad. Sleep was nice. He couldn't remember the last night he'd had a good night's sleep.

He let it wash over him. Easy.

* * *

Dick woke back in the hospital. Groggy, but alive. Damn it.

Brian stood over him. “Thought you could escape that easy, huh?”

Dick groaned and shut his eyes again. Fuck off.

“The bossman's pretty mad about that. He even shot one of the nurses.”

Dick nearly jerked right out of bed. _What_?

“Oh, yeah.” Brian, the bastard, smirked at his reaction. “We can't have nurses who let their charges get enough drugs to take out a rhino. Shame we don't have anybody ready to replace him yet. Maybe that Amber girl? Nah, she's still too stubborn for my taste. I'd need more time to break her first.” Brian flexed his hand, forming it into a fist. “Maybe I'll get to her once I'm through with you. The boss cleared me to do whatever I wanted to you.” He paused. “What, no smartass remark? We should drug you up more often. Now be a good boy and hold still.”

There was no point struggling. One of the nurses watched the scene for a moment before she turned away. Dick bit into the pillow. It tasted like antiseptic.

It didn't hurt as much as he'd expected. Some of the drugs were probably still in his system. They couldn't make it easier to breathe while Brian squeezed his throat, though. He kind of wished the man would squeeze harder and put him out of his misery, since he clearly couldn't manage it by himself.

He gasped when a rib cracked. His captors were usually careful to avoid causing injuries like that, but clearly they cared more about punishing him than keeping him as a viable source of income at this point.

Brian left him after a while. Dick breathed against the new injury, wincing at the stab of pain. He didn't want to think about how worse it would've been at any other time.

The nurse came by to tape up the rib. Neither of them made eye contact. Dick got the distinct feeling that, if he had, he would looking directly into his own future, once the novelty of his presence had worn off. Well, provided they didn't just kill him outright for being an annoying piece of shit.

In any case, being a walking zombie or being dead would be preferable to his current situation. He'd had enough of this.

* * *

Even with backup from the team and the police, Batman had yet to find where Dick was being held. The team was trying to remain optimistic. Progress had been made. They had found other bases belonging to Skinner and rescued the children there. Even if Dick was still missing, the children they'd saved deserved to be acknowledged.

Batman stood by the wall with Aqualad while Commissioner Gordon spoke to one of the older captives in his office. The boy was wire-thin and shaky, and couldn't keep eye contact for long.

“Do you know about any other locations these people use?” Jim asked him.

“They talked about moving us,” the boy replied. “I don't know where exactly, but they've got a big place outside the city that nobody's found yet. They're putting everyone together there because Gotham's getting too risky to do business in.”

“Sounds like we've got them on the run,” Jim said to Batman and Aqualad.

“Maybe so, but we cannot allow them to continue running,” Aqualad replied.

“Agreed,” said Batman.

“Thank you for talking to us,” Jim said to the boy. “A social worker should be outside to look after you.”

“That's how I got nabbed in the first place,” the boy said quietly. “A social worker took me away from my parents but they weren't really a social worker.”

“I promise this person is who say they are. The GCPD has used her before. I'll have an officer check in with you tomorrow.” Jim took the boy out of his office.

“Gather the team,” Batman told Aqualad, who then sent a message through his communicator. They took a zeta tube to Mount Justice, where the team was already waiting.

“We have a lead,” said Aqualad.

“One of the captives told us Skinner's organisation is moving their operation outside Gotham,” Batman elaborated.

“How far outside Gotham?” Kid Flash asked.

“Unknown, but the boy's choice of words implied a short distance. I'll speak to my contacts and see what we can do.” Batman headed back to the zeta tube. “Good work tonight.” He stepped inside the tube and dematerialised.

Wally sighed and pushed the cowl off his head. He was paler than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed the strain he was under.

“How are you holding up?” Kaldur asked him, though it seemed like a pointless question with all the evidence in front of him.

“How do you think?” Wally murmured. “It's been three weeks. Three. Weeks. And we still haven't found him.”

M'gann put her arm around him. “We'll find him.”

“We've got an idea of where he'll be now,” Artemis added.

“A very vague idea.” Wally ran a hand over his face. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in God knows how long.

“We're not gonna stop until we find him,” said Raquel.

Zatanna rested her chin on Wally's shoulder. “He has to know we're looking for him.”

“That doesn't mean he thinks we'll find him,” Wally countered. “It wouldn't be the first time somebody's failed to rescue him in time.”

“That's not going to happen,” Conner growled.

“They wouldn't have gone to so much effort to get him if they weren't going to bother keeping him alive,” Jason said. “It would've been easier to just kill him in his room and leave him there.”

“I don't think that come out quite as comforting as you intended,” said Wally.

“He does have a point, though,” Artemis said. “Skinner obviously wanted to take him alive. You don't kidnap somebody if you're just going to kill them.”

“Tell that to the Joker.”

“The Joker's ridiculous,” Zatanna replied. “And, to be fair, he did have to draw Dick out to get at him in the first place.”

“And then tortured him for a while,” Jason added. “So even then he didn't try to kill him right away.”

Wally gritted his teeth. “Not. Helping.”

“Enough,” said Kaldur. “We need to rest so we are ready to leave at a moment's notice. We may not have achieved the result we wanted tonight, but we still saved lives and we are closer to locating Dick than we were yesterday. That will have to be enough for now.”

The team dispersed. Wally headed to his room on-site. He didn't feel like talking to his aunt and uncle today. They had been nothing but supportive, but he needed a break. He needed to wallow without Barry trying to feed him and Iris hovering over him like a sympathetic moth.

Three weeks was a long time to be a missing person. Even if, by some miracle, they found Dick alive, he wasn't going to be the same person he was before Skinner abducted him. How could he be? They knew exactly what went down in these child brothels by now. Some of the kids in those places had been there for months, if not years. The thought of Dick going through that, especially after what he'd already been through, made Wally physically ill.

Wally wanted to believe everything would turn out okay in the end, but after three weeks of searching, his optimism had dried up. But he'd keep searching. He had to. He owed Dick that much.

* * *

Dick was left in the hospital while the drugs were flushed out of his system and his cracked rib healed a little. Not fully, though, because apparently there were only so many fucks the nurses could give. Dick barely had time for a quick, freezing shower before he was shuffled off to the initiation room. Because that had ended well for him last time.

Most of the staff, including Skinner, were settled into the chairs around the bed. Luke stood at its foot. That set alarm bells off in Dick's head. Luke may have more pull with their captors due to his being with them the longest, but he was still technically one of them.

“Long time no see, Richard,” said Luke. “You nearly missed an important event.”

“Did you turn away another rescue effort?” Dick doubted it, but he didn't have to believe what he was saying to be a smartass. “You know they're going to stop believing your bullshit at some point.”

“Funny. No, actually, today is my eighteenth birthday.”

“You're not mad because I forgot to get you a gift, are you?”

“You are the gift.”

Dick came pretty close to choking on his own spit. “I'm sorry, did you suddenly grow a sense of humour?”

“No. Bring him here, please.”

The nearest adult shoved him towards the bed. Dick fell on top of it, and Luke immediately pinned him to the mattress.

“You see, George told me I could become a full member of his organisation once I turned eighteen.” Luke tugged at Dick's shirt, but Dick didn't feel like cooperating. “One condition, of course, was that I proved I could control my charges. They've all been impressed with my work keeping you all in line, but there was one thing I hadn't done yet.”

“So you're planning to rape me to get your rapist wings in an organisation that's held you captive and raped _you_ for a decade,” Dick surmised. “I can't even begin to tell you how fucked-up that is.”

“George gave me a home.” Luke finally got the shirt over Dick's head. “He fed me, clothed me, taught me Math and English and History and everything I needed to know. All he asked in return were a few little chores here and there.”

“Still sounds fucked-up to me.” For the love of God, he was referring to letting grown-ass men fuck him as a chore, like it was on par with washing the dishes or cleaning one's room. “Skinner's been manipulating you from day one. You just accept it because you don't know any other life.”

“I don't need to know any other life.” Luke tore Dick's pants off him, and Dick grabbed his wrists and jammed his thumbs into the pressure points. Luke tore away, and accepted the handcuffs Skinner passed him. Two men grabbed Dick's arms and held him in place while Luke cuffed him to the bed.

“I hope you die,” Dick growled at him as Luke undressed him completely. “I hope you die a slow, painful death. I hope it hurts. And I hope I get to be there when it happens.”

“Charming.” Luke pressed a finger against Dick's healing rib, and the pain shut him up. “Give it time, and maybe you'll start to see things my way. The older ones always have more trouble accepting it.”

“Because we're old enough to know better,” Dick shot back. His heart hammered against his ribcage. As angry as he was with Luke, he hadn't expected him to stoop as low as raping a fellow captive in exchange for Skinner's table scrap promises.

“You're old enough to have developed an attitude.” Luke pulled his own shirt off over his head, one knee pressed against Dick's chest to stop him from moving. As if he'd be able to get far with his wrists cuffed to the head of the bed.

He switched tactics. “You really think they'll let you be one of them that easy? One rape and you get to join the big leagues? You've been their sex slave for years.”

Skinner threw a ball gag onto the mattress. “Feel free to shut him up any time, Luke.”

Luke picked up the gag and shoved it into Dick's mouth. It stretched his jaw painfully, and there was nothing he could do to alleviate the strain.

“You always did talk too much.” Luke fastened the gag and sat back for a moment to rake his eyes over Dick's naked body. “George told me you were already interested in men before he brought you here. So relax, and I'll be nice and gentle. Maybe you'll come to enjoy this.”

It hadn't happened yet. But all Dick could do in response to this new level of bullshit was glare. And glare and glare and glare and hope he suddenly developed heat vision and burned this bastard to a crisp.

Luke's hand brushed down Dick's abdomen, making the muscles there tense up. “Now, onto business...”

* * *

Dick didn't sleep a wink when he returned to the dormitory that night. Luke hadn't come back with him, thank God, but that wasn't enough to uncoil the knot living in his stomach. He wasn't particularly close to anybody in this dorm, and nobody asked him what had happened. Honestly, though, Dick preferred it that way. He didn't know where to begin yet.

Amber dragged everything out of him the following morning. What happened while he was ill, the suicide attempt, Luke taking a place among the people responsible for his being here in the first place. They had to speak quietly, even as Dick wanted to scream. Luke was just far enough away to be out of earshot. Dick avoided eye contact.

Amber kept a tight grip on his hand until they were separated after breakfast, and Dick was sent immediately to one of the client rooms. He sat waiting on the bed. His limbs were lead and his eyes itched and the knot in his stomach from last night had turned into a weight. Luke may have been less violent than everybody else who had dared to touch him in this place, but the emotional impact was far more pointed. Even after so much time had passed since Luke first showed who he really was, the betrayal still burned his insides.

The door opened after what felt like an eternity, and a bald man in an expensive suit stepped inside.

“Luthor,” Dick murmured, and what little dignity he had left fell out of him in heavy breaths, catching in his throat, bursting out as sobs.

“Be quiet.” Luthor hissed, pressing a hand over Dick's mouth. Dick tried to jerk away, and Luthor grabbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I am not here to harm you.”

Dick's breaths quivered against the hand on his lips. He gripped the man's wrist, but didn't squeeze. Luthor let him do it.

“I... apologise for frightening you.” Luthor looked more annoyed than apologetic. “If I let go, will you stay quiet?”

Dick nodded. Luthor stepped away. Dick took a few deep breaths and wiped his face dry.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dick hissed.

“Criminals tend to assume my reputation means I am interested in various petty ventures.” Luthor stepped over to the wall, where a piece of wallpaper was peeling. “A number of organisations appear to assume I am sexually attracted to children, which is rather irritating. I usually discard their invitations, but I recently received one that mentioned you by name.”

“That's bold of them.”

“Indeed.” Luthor swiped a finger over the wallpaper peel, putting it back into place for all of a second. “I suppose the people in charge of this... establishment assumed my rivalry with your guardian extended far enough that I would be interested in using you to harm him. Had this been a ransom kidnapping, perhaps I would have let it run its course. Of course, when a usually stubborn child makes an attempt on his own life, it does tend to raise concerns about his treatment.”

Everything clicked. “You were the client they sent me to see.”

“Yes. And I saved your life, so a little gratitude would be appreciated.”

Dick avoided rolling his eyes; Luthor was an asshole, but he did have a point. “Thank you. I had no idea anybody was coming to help me. If that's what you plan to do.”

“I can have people infiltrate this building tonight and extract you.”

“Just me?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

Dick stood up. “Of course it is. If you're willing to free me, you have to free all of us. If you don't want to be responsible for that, contact Bruce and the police and tell them where to find us. They'll take care of the rest.”

“Your faith in the Gotham police is surprising. And naïve.”

“I'm not interested in a lecture. Are you going to help me or not?”

“I will.” Luthor offered him a smirk. “The men who drove me here took steps to ensure I would be unaware of our destination, but I am not in the habit of letting people keep me in the dark. I will pass the address to the police and Bruce Wayne, along with as much information I can gather about the situation. Is that sufficient?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Dick had no illusions about Luthor's motivations here. Being responsible for the rescue of Bruce Wayne's kid, plus a number of other children, would benefit the man's public image and he would probably use the situation to try and persuade Bruce to work with him again. Their last partnership had terminated years ago when Bruce had learned Luthor was using medical technology they developed to create weapons. Dick couldn't imagine Bruce agreeing to a partnership with him again, but he could see Bruce turning a blind eye to any legitimate operations in Gotham for a while.

Luthor left shortly afterwards. It took some effort for Dick to affect the defeated attitude he'd had before, but it was important that nobody realised anything had changed. To anyone else's knowledge, Dick had absolutely no reason to be hopeful after the last few weeks he'd had.

Still, pretending to be defeated was a rather pleasant alternative to the real thing. He could work with that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received a review on FFNet that mentioned they were struggling with the child brothel section of this story, so I just thought I'd let everybody know that it won't be going on for much longer. That said, however, the majority of what I have planned out so far for the rest of the story does deal with the aftermath, and there may be one more incident further down the line.
> 
> EDIT: To be clear, the review I received wasn't hateful and they were very complimentary of my writing otherwise. This section of the story was just having a negative psychological effect on them. I don't mind that they told me this, because it's helped me gauge how this part is affecting people who are sensitive to this kind of content.


	22. Cold Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting for Lex Luthor to make good on his promise is difficult, but better than having no hope at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual assault of minors warning is still in effect for this chapter, but not to the same degree.
> 
> I struggled with naming this chapter like you wouldn't believe, so that's my excuse for this title.

Freedom was so close, Dick could almost taste it. It was hard to keep going with business as usual—seeing clients, eating under watchful eyes, being followed into the shower, trying and failing to avoid Luke who was still sleeping in the dormitory for some reason—but the thought of rescue sustained him through it all. For the first time in weeks, Dick even let his mind wander to the people waiting on the outside, both for him and for the kids around him.

“Do you have anyone on the outside who might be waiting for you?” he asked Amber during breakfast one day. They didn’t normally talk too much about the world outside this place.

“My mum’s out there somewhere,” Amber said. “She gave me up when I was a baby. She was a teenager, so I guess I can’t blame her. She used to check up on me sometimes. There’s also a guy at the school I went to with my last foster family, but nothing really happened between us before I got nabbed. I know about your family history already. Was there anybody else?”

“A boyfriend,” Dick replied. “You would’ve been in here already when we came out publicly. He was my best friend when we were younger. He doesn’t live in Gotham, but he visits nearly every weekend. His carbon footprint’s probably the size of a small country by now.”

Amber chuckled a little at that. It was the closest to laughing he’d ever seen her come.

“You seem better than yesterday,” she said after a while.

“Yeah. I think I found my second wind.” As much as he wanted to tell her rescue was coming soon, he couldn’t risk the wrong people overhearing. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I don’t scare easy. But you did freak me out a little.” Amber elbowed him. “Don’t do it again. I’d miss your ugly face.”

“I am the highlight of your day.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“True.”

“How's your pillow?” Amber asked him after a while.

Dick cottoned onto her meaning. “Could be better, could be worse.” He hadn't managed to grab ID off everybody who paid to see him, but he'd done pretty well overall.

“Same. I've started fluffing mine myself.” Amber nudged him gently under the table. Dick had cottoned on without the extra help. She'd started taking IDs of her clients as well.

“Hope you're being careful with it,” Dick said quietly.

“I'm always careful.”

The porridge was disgusting as per usual, but it seemed easier to stomach today. It had been nearly a week since Luthor had promised to help him, but Dick remained cautiously optimistic. The police and Batman had probably wanted to verify his information first, given the man’s reputation, and then they would have to prepare for a large-scale assault and hostage extraction. It wasn’t something that could be done lightly.

Dick was sent off to see clients after breakfast. One after the other, stretching well into the night.

A pair of men were about to tie him to the bedposts when the sound of gunfire came from the hallway. While the men were distracted, Dick grabbed a set of handcuffs out of a slackened hand and slammed them against the man’s nose. While that man staggered back, pressing his hands against the stream of blood, Dick kicked the other one in the face. Dick leapt upon him, tackling him to the floor and trying really hard to not think about the fact both he and the man were naked, and choked him until he passed out. He then rammed the other man’s face against the wall, knocking him out.

Dick had just enough time to find his clothes and pull them on before the door opened. Superboy charged in, stopping short when he saw the two unconscious naked men on the floor. The rest of the team filtered in around him.

“You okay?” Kid Flash asked him.

“I’ll live. Somebody cuff them. I’ll probably stab them if I have to go near them again.”

Aqualad cuffed the men to the bed. Artemis threw sheets on top of them. Dick rummaged through the men’s pants and found a knife.

“If you’re trying to avoid stabbing people, taking a knife probably isn’t going to help,” Kid Flash commented.

“Keep that up and I’ll stab you first.” Because that was the kind of thing you said to your boyfriend when he came to save you from a commercial rape dungeon.

“Okay. Knife-wielding angry short person it is.”

“Have you found the others yet?” Dick asked the team.

“Not yet,” said Miss Martian.

“There are two dormitories on opposite sides of the building,” Dick said. “I can lead you to the nearest one, but to get to the other one you’ll have to go through either the cafeteria or the lobby. And if you’re going through the lobby, you might as well drop the first group off outside and go back for the others.”

“I’ll inform Batman.” Aqualad stepped away while the rest of the team prepared to leave.

Dick suddenly remembered to check the men’s wallets for ID, and dug into their pockets to find them. He slipped them into the slit in his pants.

Aqualad finished his call. “Richard, are you ready to leave?”

Dick nodded. “Let’s get the others.”

The team formed a protective cocoon around him and proceeded down the hallway. Miss Martian hooked him up to the psychic link.

“ **We're so sorry we took so long,”** she said. **“Batman put a tracker on Skinner and it led us to one base but you weren't there.”**

“ **Oh, no, I was there,”** Dick replied. **“Luke** **lied** **.”**

“ **I knew there was something wrong with him,”** Superboy grumbled.

“ **Well, you'll get your chance to confront him soon enough.”**

“ **I'm looking forward to it,”** Kid Flash said darkly.

“ **Leave him in one piece. I want him to face trial with the others. He's been working with them the whole time.”**

“ **Why would he do that?”** asked Miss Martian. **“Isn't he being held captive, too?”**

“ **Not anymore.”** Dick stepped over an unconscious guard the team had obviously taken out before. **“** **T** **hey've been moulding him for about a decade at this point,** **and promised to let him join them when he turned eighteen** **.** **Which he has.** **I doubt they'd ever let him be on the same level as them, but they're definitely giving him more autonomy. And I got to be his birthday present. Which was lovely.”**

“ **If he tries anything, I'm putting an arrow through his foot,”** said Artemis.

“ **Not if I get to him first,”** Superboy growled.

“ **You'll both have to beat me to him if you want a shot,”** Kid Flash chimed in.

Dick rolled his eyes. **“Just concentrate on getting everyone out of here, would you?”** He felt enough like a damsel in distress without all this verbal flexing going on around him.

They ran across a group of four men. Kid Flash took one down before anyone could blink, and the other three fell in short order. Dick kept a tight grip on his knife, silently daring somebody to come at him so he could work out some more aggression.

He got his chance in the corridor just outside the dormitory. A dozen guards, only a few of whom Dick even recognised, charged at the team, who handled it pretty well, but one managed to break through their ranks. Dick jammed the pommel of his knife into the man's eye. He fell to the floor, howling, and Dick pressed on his throat with one foot until he fell unconscious. Pathetic.

“Are you hurt?” Aqualad asked him.

“I'm fine,” Dick said curtly. “Go through that door.”

“Dick,” Kid Flash whispered, his hand hovering just above Dick's shoulder. “You're shaking. You sure you're okay?”

“It's just adrenaline. Please don't touch me.” Dick had no idea if he'd be able to keep himself together if Kid Flash—Wally—tried to comfort him right now.

Luke was waiting for them inside. “I've already told them you can't help them, so don't even try.”

Dick shoved past him. “Piss off.” He grabbed the pillowcase of IDs out of his bed and addressed the kids scattered around the room. “The police and Batman are here. This place is getting shut down. This team is here to extract us as quickly as possible so we don't get caught in the crossfire when the police storm the place. Have I got that right?”

“Yeah, actually,” Kid Flash replied. “Good instincts.”

“You can't do this,” Luke pressed.

“They can and will.” Dick returned to the team. “If we stay here, we could die. Skinner's people could decide to kill us, or we could get caught in a firefight. We have to go. Okay?”

The kids nodded in agreement. Some of the older kids picked up younger ones. A little girl tugged on the hem of Dick's shirt, and he lifted her into his arms. His rib protested a little bit, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Luke charged out the door.

“Leave him,” said Aqualad when Kid Flash made to follow him. “Our job is to rescue the hostages. The kidnappers already know we are here. There is little he can do to stop us.”

“Remind me to punch him out the next time I see him,” said Superboy.

“Get in line,” Kid Flash replied. Dick really wished he'd stop being so protective. Everything Wally said like that pushed Dick closer to his breaking point. And he couldn't afford to break until everybody was safe.

“Is everybody ready?” Dick asked the kids, who nodded. Most of them were pale and a few were shaking, but resolve was set in their faces. In that moment, it didn't matter that Dick barely knew any of them and that they barely knew him. He was stepping up when they needed him to, and that was all that mattered.

Aqualad organised the team into three sections. He took point with Kid Flash and Miss Martian. Zatanna was in the middle where she could cast her spells uninterrupted, along with Rocket who was acting as a shield for the kids when attacked. Superboy and Robin were stationed at the back to catch anybody who tried to sneak up behind them.

Dick had to put the knife away to carry the little girl, but it didn't bother him too much. He was well-protected, and he had a more important job than fighting now.

“What's your name?” Dick asked the little girl.

“Lucy.”

“Nice to meet you, Lucy. I'm Richard. I'm going to protect you while we're getting out of here, okay?”

Lucy rested her head against Dick's shoulder. “Okay.”

Dick passed Zatanna the pillowcase of IDs. “Could you shrink and hold that for me?”

“Okay. Knirhs siht esacwollip dna sti stnetnoc.” She put the newly-shrunken pillowcase into her pocket. **“What's in it?”**

“ **Clients' IDs.”**

Zatanna winced. **“That's a lot of people.”**

“ **And it's not even everyone. I couldn't get anything off a few of them.”**

They only encountered one more group of guards. Kid Flash didn't let anyone else get a hit in before he took them down.

The lobby was empty when they reached it. Aqualad directed Miss Martian to check ahead for threats. Dick took in the lobby.

It looked so _normal_. Like it was some kind of office building, down to the computer desk and generic watercolour paintings and the dark grey polished floor tiles. The walls were a minty green, the kind of colour Dick hadn't seen in months. It was oddly soothing, yet unsettling at the same time.

“ **All clear,”** Miss Martian said over the link. They proceeded out the double doors.

The cold air smacked Dick in the face. He hadn't been outside in weeks, and the last time had been both brief and overshadowed by severe nausea.

Flashing police lights lit up the night, and the team quickly escorted their charges across the grass to the police line. Dick passed Lucy off to one of the other kids and turned back to the team.

“Okay, so to find the others—” He didn't get to finish his sentence, because the building burst apart in a mushroom of flame. Kid Flash had zipped away to put the fire out before Dick had even registered what had happened.

“Get the fire department down here, stat!” Commissioner Gordon shouted.

Dick grabbed Aqualad's arm. “Where's Batman?”

Aqualad pressed a finger to his communicator. “Aqualad here. Yes? Understood. Aqualad out.” He turned to the rest of the team. “Kid Flash has put the fire out. There are children trapped in the rubble. Batman is already on the scene.” The team raced back towards the jagged remnants of the building. Police charged around Dick to reach the scene themselves.

Dick took advantage of the chaos to head over there himself. Maybe there was something he could do. He knew too many people caught in that explosion to just sit by and watch everyone else leap to their rescue.

He got about halfway to the dormitory, his shirt pressed over his face, before an officer stopped him.

“Kid, you shouldn't be in here.”

“I've got friends in here. Maybe I can help.”

“There's nothing you can do.” The officer physically turned him around. “The kids' quarters faced the brunt of the explosion. Everybody in there is dead, or soon will be. You're not helping anyone by getting in the way. Go back to the police line.”

“You don't know this place like I do. I--”

“Get. Out.”

Dick had to obey. Arguing further would just waste time this officer could be using to look for survivors.

“Listen,” he said. “I'm not gonna keep arguing. But one of my friends started keeping a pillowcase of IDs. People who were clients. Make sure that's found, would you?”

The officer headed further inside. “We'll see. No promises.”

Dick headed back outside. Smoke still hung heavy in the air. He could barely see the police lights.

Somebody grabbed him from behind and clamped a hand over his mouth before he could call out. The person dragged him away from both the building and the police line.

“ **I need help,”** Dick called over the psychic link. **“Like, now. Near the treeline to the left of the building** **if you face the police line** **.”**

“ **I'll send someone immediately,”** Aqualad replied.

Dick felt metal press against his temple as his captor dragged him closer to the trees. The person wasn't much bigger than he was, so he definitely wasn't one of the guards. Or Brian. Or Skinner. There was only one person it could be. Only one person who made sense.

The person's hand fell away from Dick's mouth in favour of getting a better hold on his neck.

“Luke,” Dick breathed.

“Everything was fine until you showed up.” Luke's breath was unsteady against his ear. “Things made sense. Skinner fed us, clothed us and put a roof over our heads. All we had to do was obey him. But you wouldn't _listen_.”

Dick was mighty tired of this bullshit. Amber was probably dead, along with a whole bunch of other kids, and he was stuck here with a gun to his head, listening to Luke spout all the crap Skinner indoctrinated him into believing.

“And you think shooting me will fix anything?”

Dick spotted movement in the shadows nearby. Just the tail end of a black cloak.

The gun against Dick's temple trembled. “It's my responsibility to keep you all in line. It's my job to clean up your mess.”

“It's too late for that, Luke. It's over. Skinner's abandoned you.”

“No, he hasn't. He--”

“Put down the gun, Luke.” Batman emerged from the forest. Dick didn't bother wondering how he'd gotten over there. Luke hadn't exactly been paying much attention to anything behind him.

“Batman,” Luke growled. “George told me stories about you when I was a kid. You pretend you're here to protect people.”

“He does protect people, genius,” Dick snapped. “Why do you think he's here? He's trying to stop you from murdering me. That sounds like protection from where I'm standing _with a gun to my head_.”

“Keep talking and I'll pull the trigger,” Luke threatened.

“Weren't you planning to do that anyway?”

“Luke,” Batman said quickly, probably trying to distract him before he decided to follow through on his threats. “I understand you feel betrayed. This place was your home. But shooting that boy will not undo what has been done. Enough people have died tonight. Skinner made that decision. He chose to detonate bombs rather than let those children leave.”

“They deserved to die,” said Luke. “After everything George did for them, all they wanted was to leave him. Ungrateful little shits.”

“And where is George, exactly?” Dick shot back. “If he cared about you so much, wouldn't you be with him already? Didn't you try to find him when you ran away from being rescued?”

“I couldn't find him.” Luke's voice wavered. “He's probably busy fighting off all the people breaking into our _home_.”

“Or maybe he bailed as soon as things started going wrong,” Dick retorted.

“He wouldn't leave me behind. He cares about me.”

“That doesn't mean you need to kill for him,” Batman said. “Have you ever killed before?”

The gun against Dick's temple twitched. “No.”

“How old are you, Luke?”

“Eighteen.”

“You have the rest of your life ahead of you, Luke,” Batman said. “You don't need to ruin it by becoming a murderer. Put the gun down, and I'll make sure the police go easy on you.”

Luke wasn't buying it. “George always said the police would just kill me.”

“Some police kill, Luke, but these ones don't if they can help it,” Batman assured him. “George was afraid of losing you when he said that. People say things they don't mean when they're afraid.”

“Why should I trust you?” Luke snapped. “George says you hurt people. You put people in hospital.”

“I put bad people in hospital,” Batman clarified. “And only when necessary. I have no intention of hurting you.”

“Luke, George has killed people,” Dick said. “He's the last person who gets a say in what counts as appropriate use of force. What about all the kids who could've been saved if he'd decided they were worthy of receiving medical treatment? The only reason any of the sick kids survived because I got sick and he went through too much trouble to get me to let me die of a treatable illness. What about Bethany? She could still be alive if she'd gotten treatment. And Brandon? He only died because he was trying to stop Bethany getting attacked when she was too sick to eat. How do you justify that to yourself? How do you stand there and accuse Batman of hurting people when your precious _George_ has done so much worse to _children_?”

Luke's trembling fingers flexed on the gun handle. Dick was so fucking tempted to just grab the gun and beat the shit out of Luke himself and hope to hell he didn't get a shot off first.

“I don't...” Luke's grip on the gun slackened a little and Batman had a batarang in his hand. Dick gave him the tinest of nods. Do it.

The batarang flew out of Batman's hand, knocking the gun out of Luke's weakened grip. The gun discharged, but Dick threw himself to the ground just in time.

Luke screamed, and cradled his hand. The batarang had cut it. But Dick wasn't taking any chances. He leapt to his feet, tackled Luke to the ground and knocked him out with a swift jab to the head.

“ _Dick_.” Batman had taken an abortive step forward. Most of his face was covered by the cowl, but the set of his mouth told Dick everything he needed to know.

“Yes, that was reckless.” Dick rolled Luke onto his stomach. “Blah, blah, blah I don't care.” He pulled Luke's hands together and sat on his legs. “Got cuffs?”

Batman closed the distance and passed Dick a pair of handcuffs. They weren't cheap and nicked like the ones Skinner's people used, but the sight of them still made his stomach feel a bit funny. He shook off the feeling and cuffed Luke's wrists. Batman radioed for an officer.

He helped Dick up. “Are you okay?”

“I don't know,” Dick answered. He really didn't. He clasped his shaking hands together.

Luke was taken away and Batman slowly walked Dick back towards the police line. Dick's legs felt weird. His whole body felt weird. Like it wasn't completely there. Or maybe everything around him wasn't there instead. It was confusing. His head felt kind of heavy. He vaguely registered his heart jackhammering against his ribcage, but it didn't seem all that important.

Batman sat him down at the back of an ambulance and a nurse put a bright, orange blanket around his shoulders. It was weird seeing a nurse who actually made facial expressions.

Batman knelt down to Dick's eye level. “I'm going to help the police search for survivors. Will you be okay here?”

Dick shrugged. Now wasn't a good time to ask him to make decisions. He noticed Zatanna ducking under the police tape and picking her way towards them.

“We've been through the whole building,” Zatanna said. “We saved everyone we could. The team's extracting the ones we couldn't now.” She fished out the shrunken pillowcase of IDs. “Knirhsnu esacowllip dna stnetnoc.” She handed it back to Dick. “I found another pillowcase of IDs in the wreckage but I already passed that onto the Commissioner personally, just to be safe.”

Dick found his voice again. “Thank you. It belonged to a girl called Amber.” He couldn't bring himself to mention that Amber was probably dead at this point. Zatanna picked up on it well enough, but she chose not to say anything.

“Kid Flash and Superboy took down a truck full of guys who tried to escape,” she said instead. “Skinner was on it. He's in custody now.”

“Good work,” Batman said. “Help the team finish up. I'll discuss the next step with the Commissioner.”

Dick handed him the pillowcase. Batman didn't ask what it was, but the frown was question enough.

“Evidence,” Dick told him. “I swiped IDs from clients when I could. It was my idea to take them. Amber came up with the pillowcase.”

The corner of Batman's mouth twisted in response, but he didn't comment. “I'll make sure this gets to the Commissioner. You'll be safe here. Jim and I personally screened everybody on-site.”

Dick still felt a trickle of panic when Batman walked away, but he tried his best to swallow it down.

* * *

Once it was all over, Dick and the other children were transported directly to the hospital. The police conducted interviews in between various medical exams. The rape kit was by far the worst of the bunch. Dick paced around the waiting area assigned to him and the others once it was done. If he stayed still for too long, he'd probably end up either hitting something or collapsing into a sobbing mess.

A few of the younger kids gravitated towards him, and he took a few deep breaths, calmed himself down and sat with them for a while.

Bruce and Wally arrived shortly after that. Alfred was preparing for Dick's arrival at home, and Jason had needed some time to recover after the mission. One of the doctors herded Dick and Bruce into a room.

“Hello, Richard, Mr Wayne. My name's Doctor Lee. Please, sit down.” She waited until Bruce and Dick had taken seats in front of her desk. “Now, Dick, I understand you've been through a trying experience, but we need to talk about sexually-transmitted infections.”

This was not a conversation Dick had looked forward to hearing.

“The urine sample we took earlier will be used to test for STIs,” Dr Lee told him, “but since these infections can take time to become detectable, we'll need to see you again in a few weeks' time for another test. HIV can take up to twelve weeks to become detectable, so even if your results come out negative, we should be on the safe side and test for that a third time, rather than waiting the whole eight weeks, as other diseases could potentially manifest and be detected prior to that.”

“When will the results be available?” Bruce asked. Dick had just about shut down at this point.

“For an extensive test of multiple infections, I'd say about ten days. If the results are negative, we can communicate that over the phone to save you a trip.”

“And if they're positive, you'll want us to come in.”

“That's correct. Leave your details at the front desk if you haven't already. We'll be in touch.”

Bruce steered Dick out of the office once the conversation was done. By God, he just wanted to go home now and sleep for a year. Or did he? That's where they'd gotten him in the first place.

Wally was more than willing to hold Dick's hand as they walked out to the car. Dick was tired of talking, of explaining the same thing to at least half a dozen different people, and Wally got that. The car ride was mercifully quiet and warm. Dick rested his head on Wally's shoulder.

His insides clenched when he caught a glimpse of the manor. Wally rubbed circles into Dick's palm with his thumb. It helped a little. Not much.

Alfred and Jason were in the foyer, waiting for them. Jason hung back a little, though, and disappeared shortly after Alfred started talking.

“Welcome home, Master Dick.” Alfred chose not to hug him. Dick was grateful for that. Even holding Wally's hand was starting to get stressful. “I made up a guest room for your use. Would you like something to eat?”

Dick shook his head.

“Would you prefer to rest, sir?”

Dick nodded. Alfred led him and Wally to the guest room. It was on the opposite side of the manor to his normal room. It probably used to be a servant's room or something, since there was no window. It was large enough to fit the queen-size bed and a desk and amoire, in any case, and an en suite had been added by one of the generations that had come before Bruce's.

“I took the liberty of moving your possessions to this room,” Alfred told him. Dick nodded in thanks. Alfred left him with Wally.

“Did you want company tonight?” Wally asked him.

Dick shook his head. He needed some time to decompress. The only time he'd gotten to spend completely by himself over these past few weeks had been in the client rooms, while waiting for a client. So it hadn't really been a good time to think things over.

“Okay. I'm just in the next room over. Come get me if you change your mind.” Wally left and shut the door behind him.

Dick shut himself in the bathroom and ran a bath as hot as he could stand. Looking at the shower made him feel sick. He sat in the tub, scrubbing his skin over and over again until it was red raw and stinging. Even then, he still felt grimy. Corrupted. Not that he'd been clean in the first place. That had gotten taken away from him when he was thirteen. He stayed in the bath until the water turned cold and then grudgingly dragged himself to bed. He was tired, but the last time he fell asleep in the manor hadn't ended all that well for him.

He did manage to fall asleep eventually. Faceless people loomed over him, cornering him, touching him, holding him down. Until he jerked awake, kicking at whatever was on top of him. It was only after he heard whatever it was fall to the floor that he realised they were just bedsheets. At least he hadn't gotten tangled in them this time.

With a hand over his still-hammering heart, Dick slipped out of the bedroom and padded down the hall to Wally's room. The shadows clawed at him, and it took everything he had to not just bolt out of the manor and keep running.

Wally opened the door to Dick's knocking almost instantly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Hey, babe. Come in.” He stepped aside to let Dick in. “Is your chest hurting? Because I should probably go get Alfred if it is.”

Dick shook his head. He took a few deep breaths and unlatched his hand from the front of his shirt. His heartbeat had settled down a little, but it was still faster than he would've liked.

“Couldn't sleep?”

Dick didn't feel much up to talking, but he felt like he owed Wally an explanation. “Nightmare.”

“Okay.” Wally held out his hand. Dick took it and squeezed. Hard. Wally didn't react. “Did you want to try sleeping, or would you like to watch something? I've got some Disney movies on my laptop.”

Dick gestured to the laptop. Wally grabbed it off his desk without letting go of Dick, and they lay on their stomachs, laptop sitting between the pillows. Dick rested on top of a pillow, arms clasped around it, and watched the movie. Wally had picked Snow White. He'd deliberately avoided a few of the options, such as The Lion King because it had been hard for Dick to watch ever since his family died, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame because Esmeralda had to deal with some creepy shit that would probably set Dick off in his current state. Dick didn't pay it much mind. It was easier to just let Wally handle it.

He eventually fell into a doze. His dreams were vague and unsettling and they woke him up every few hours, but Wally was there to comfort him through them. It was better than trying to fight it alone.


	23. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Dick's month of hell starts to show itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual assault of minors isn't directly occurring anymore, but it is regularly referenced and Dick's memories are quite vivid.

Dick felt more rested the next morning than he had in weeks, but he was still kind of annoyed his body refused to let him sleep longer. He only got up in the end because Wally's stomach was rumbling loud enough to wake the entire manor.

“You can go back to sleep,” Wally assured him as he watched Dick climb out of bed. “Nobody's going to tell you what to do today.”

Dick waved away his concern. They got dressed—Dick went back to his own room to do it in blessed privacy—and walked down to the dining room together.

Alfred had prepared a variety of dishes for breakfast. The sight of the porridge upon stepping through the door made Dick sick to his stomach and he almost turned around and walked back out. Wally gently tapped his arm.

“Everything okay?”

“If you laugh, I will punch you,” Dick murmured.

“I won't. Scout's honour.”

Dick didn't feel like being a smartass about Wally never actually being a boy scout, so he cut to the chase instead. “The porridge is freaking me out.”

Wally didn't even blink. “Okay. I'll have a word with Alfred. Hang tight.” He zipped over to Alfred and whispered something in his ear. Alfred nodded, and took the bowl of porridge off the table and into the kitchen. Wally sped back to Dick's side and led him over to a chair. No one said a word about it.

“Good morning, Dick,” Bruce said, putting down his newspaper. “How did you sleep?”

Dick shrugged. “Could've been worse.” _Has been worse_ , he thought to himself.

“And, Jason, how did you sleep?”

Jason was poking disinterestedly at some eggs with his fork. He also shrugged, but didn't say anything to accompany it. Bruce didn't question him further.

Dick took a piece of toast and tried to eat it, but he could only take a few bites before he started feeling ill. He excused himself and headed down to the batcave. There was a little nook set into the rock that he used to hide in when he was little and needed to be alone. Bruce and Alfred knew it was there, and had fashioned a ladder to make access easier, though Alfred was the only person who truly needed it. Alfred and Bruce had gotten a mattress and blankets up there a few months after Dick's arrival. Alfred sometimes went up there to change the blankets and leave some snacks with long use-by dates, but for the most part he left it untouched.

Dick took his glove computer up with him and spent some time updating himself on changes to the batcomputer's database. He had to go slowly because focusing was difficult. It had been so long since he'd been able to concentrate properly that he was starting to forget what it felt like.

Wally's head popped up over the side after a while. “Hey. Want some company?”

Dick considered for a moment, then nodded. Wally climbed up the rest of the way and plopped himself down on the mattress next to Dick.

“The police have pictures of all the survivors from last night,” Wally told him. “It should be in the database now if you want to take a look.”

Dick closed out of the Penguin's file and found the folder containing all the information about last night's rescue efforts. He skipped over most of the files—he didn't feel up to looking at them yet—and found the pictures Wally had mentioned. He flicked through them. He knew about some of them—he wasn't surprised to find Lucy in there, but he felt relieved all the same—and the number of survivors from the explosion was distressingly small. Amber wasn't among them. Dick's heart sank. He wasn't really surprised. He'd known when it had happened.

Dick closed the file with a sigh, and tossed his glove aside. Wally took one of the blankets that was folded at the end of the mattress and wrapped it around Dick's shoulders. Dick closed his eyes and pulled it tighter around him.

“Did you want to talk?”

Dick tucked his feet inside the blanket and rested his head against the wall; Bruce and Alfred had put wooden boards against the stone and covered them in canvas. “One of my friends was caught in the explosion. She's not on the list of survivors.”

Wally scooted closer to him, but kept some breathing room between them. “I'm so sorry, babe.”

“Her mum's out there somewhere.” Dick plucked at a stray thread in the blanket. “I know she was a foster kid because her mum had to give her up, but she was still a part of her life. But I don't know her last name or even where to start looking.”

“I could mention it to Bruce if you like.”

Dick nodded. “Her name was Amber. I don't know her exact age, but she was probably around sixteen. She had brown hair and brown eyes.”

“I think I saw her when we tried to rescue you guys the first time.” Wally tidied the blanket a little, his hands hovering in Dick's space but not quite touching him. “I... Bruce didn't want me to bring this up, but the police recovered the bodies of the kids caught in the explosion. I could give Bruce her description and get him to look. Just to make sure she was found.”

Dick shrugged. “I guess.” He wasn't sure he wanted to find out either way. If her body was there, she was dead. If her body wasn't there, then she was missing and even if she was alive, she wouldn't last long or she could even be back in the hands of one of Skinner's people. The police were running a search for the rest of his associates. Dick had never seen Brian Harris or Kevin Scott, who were the other two survivors of Dick's rampage upon his escape two years ago. The Brian who had been around this time wasn't the same guy.

To be honest, he wasn't sure which was worse: being dead or getting captured again. Then again, Dick's ideas about death had been more than a little skewed lately, so he probably wasn't the best person to ask.

* * *

Dick learned a few days later that Amber was definitely dead. Bruce had started searching for her identity, and Dick also passed on all the information he had about Brandon and Bethany. Bruce didn't press him for details about their circumstances, which was fortunate. Dick could only handle so much talking at any given time right now.

His first therapy session with Dinah took place in a quiet, locked room in a disused corner of the manor. It wasn't enough to set him at ease, and he was most certainly not ready to talk about what had happened with her. Dinah quickly gave up trying to get him to talk about it, and switched to more practical things.

“I understand there's still some time before the case will go to trial,” she said, “but have you been asked to testify?”

“It's been mentioned,” Dick replied. “And I want to do it. Nothing's set in stone yet, but I'm guessing the prosecution will do everything in their power to get me on the witness stand. They want as much credibility on their side as possible.”

“And being Bruce Wayne's ward gives you that credibility,” Dinah finished for him. “Obviously, we'll need to get some work done before you'll be ready to testify, but we don't need to push it today. I'll schedule the next session at Mount Justice if that makes it easier for you.”

“Thanks.” Dick hadn't known how to bring that up. “I...” He cleared his throat. This was even harder than he'd expected. “I don't know how I'm going to talk about any of this. I can't even get it out in front of the people close to me. How am I going to manage it in front of a room full of strangers?”

“How did you cope with the Zucco trial?” Dinah asked him. “Can you apply anything from that to this trial?”

“That was simpler,” Dick replied. “I was scared, but Bruce being in the room was enough to get me through it. Zucco didn't... he didn't rape me. There was only so much the defence could do to discredit me. I don't even want to think about the things they could say about me this time around. They'll point out I'm only a few months shy of the age of consent, that I clearly have an interest in men already since I have a boyfriend, that the only eyewitnesses to anything that went down in there were people who clearly have an interest in presenting themselves as innocent victims to avoid scrutiny, and that any young children testifying could have easily been manipulated into saying what we wanted them to say.”

“And if they say those things, they would be wrong,” Dinah assured him. “We know that. Anybody capable of reason will know that.”

“You have way too much faith in humanity, BC.”

“Would it make you feel better if we came up with responses to those things?”

“Maybe.” It was mighty hard to make him feel better at the moment, but sure. Why not? It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

“All right, then.” Dinah paused to make a brief note on her notepad. “Your first concern is easy to address. No matter how close you may be to turning sixteen, you're not there yet. Any lawyer worth their salt will call out that argument right away.”

“Okay, so what the hell do I do about them using my own orientation against me?” Dick couldn't control his voice and it quickly spiralled into a near-shout. He took a deep breath. “Luke already used that on me, right before he...” Dick trailed off. He really didn't feel like discussing it.

“Being attracted to your own gender isn't the same as consenting to sex with them,” Dinah replied easily. “And it's not your fault that some people see it that way. They're wrong. You're not. Are you still with me or do you need a minute?”

Dick pressed two fingers to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing the memories to stay in their box. It was a small box, already bursting at the seams from the sheer volume of horrors contained within it. But it was all he had for now.

“I'm with you,” he said at last. “So what do we do about the defence trying to paint me and the others as liars and manipulators? Because it's going to happen. I just know it.”

“You were abducted from your own home,” Dinah replied. “The other children all went missing for months. A number of you sustained serious injuries. Several of you died.” Dick gritted his teeth against the reminder. “The evidence does not fit that theory. If they try it anyway, they will be insulting the intelligence of everybody in the room. If the prosecution does their job, they will make sure to remind the jury that you are all children. Even if you were, in theory, to consent to sex with these adults, the adults still committed a crime. And it's as plain as day to see there was no consent involved, regardless.”

Dick didn't exactly feel better, but at least he'd be better equipped if these things came up in the trial. He still wasn't entirely sold on trusting the prosecution to keep the defence in line, though. And he definitely didn't trust the jury to make the right decision.

“The case against Skinner and his people is solid, Dick,” Dinah assured him. “If, for some reason, they aren't convicted, I would strongly advise the police and Batman to investigate the jury for evidence of tampering, because that is the only way a 'not guilty' verdict will be handed down.”

Dick nodded at that. Maybe she was right. He didn't quite feel it yet, but maybe he would in time.

Dinah scribbled a few more notes down and then set the paper aside. “We can stop there, if you like.”

Dick nodded. He couldn't take much more of this.

“Okay,” said Dinah. “I'll make sure we're at Mount Justice for the next session. We'll go gently, and hopefully by the time you have to testify, you'll feel more comfortable talking about what happened.”

Dick offered her a small smile. It was all he had to give at the moment.

* * *

Dick kept going to sessions with Dinah for a while and the court case was slowly built up and decisions were finalised. His STI tests came back negative, but it wasn't that much of a load off his back because there was still the chance it was too early to detect anything.

Wally's eighteenth birthday crept up on him. The team threw a small party at Mount Justice, which was the first time Dick had seen them since his rescue. He had been avoiding them whenever he went there for therapy sessions. The sessions were difficult enough without wasting his energy on conversation before he even got into the room.

Dick hung back for most of the party. Wally was too busy being mobbed by teammates and leaguers to talk to him about it. Dick still wasn't all that comfortable with crowds, but he also didn't feel like talking, so it kind of worked out.

Zatanna brought him a slice of cake and they sat together quietly, eating and watching everyone else. Dick got through half the cake before he had to put it down, but that was definitely more than he'd eaten for breakfast that morning. Alfred was plying with him vitamin supplements in an effort to compensate for his lack of appetite. He'd found some chewable multivitamin gummy candy things, which proved easier to stomach than pills.

Dick had woken that morning, next to Wally as normal, and found himself unable to keep lying near him. He'd quietly slipped back into his own room and shut himself in there until Alfred knocked on his door to announce breakfast. Dick still hadn't said more than a few words to Wally.

It was illogical. Dick knew that. But every time he remembered it was Wally's eighteenth birthday, all he could think about was what had happened during Luke's. Wally and Luke were roughly the same age now.

“You okay?” Zatanna asked Dick after a while. “You look a bit pale.”

“I'm fine,” Dick said quietly.

“Uh-huh. And I'm the queen of Vlatava.”

Dick narrowed his eyes at her. She tugged at his hand.

“Come on. Let's talk somewhere else.”

Zatanna helped Dick up and they slipped out of the party. They walked down into the garage. Dick leaned against one of the team's motorbikes.

“You've been edgy the whole party,” Zatanna said.

“I've been edgy since I woke up this morning,” Dick muttered. He still wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk about it or not. Zatanna was just trying to help.

“Did something happen between you and Wally?”

Dick shook his head. “It's just...” he sighed. “Look, talking about it... it's hard.”

“I know. It's okay.”

Dick clasped his hands together. It was easier to look at them than her. “I can't get into the details, but Wally turning eighteen...”

“It set something off in you today,” Zatanna finished for him. “You don't have to tell me. But you probably want to talk to Wally about it, even if you can't tell him everything. I can come with you if you need someone there.”

“I think I'll be okay, but thanks.” Dick pushed himself off the bike. “I'm gonna wait until the party's over to tell him. I don't need to take away one of the few times Wally gets to have everything be about him. I'm enough of a handful as it is.”

“You're not a handful,” Zatanna said.

“Easy for you to say. You don't live with me.”

They headed back to the party. Seeing Wally put a tremor in his guts, but he could deal with it for the moment. He and Zatanna sat on the end of the couch and watched everyone chatting and eating and even dancing a little bit.

At some point, the party died down enough for Wally to head over to Dick. “Hey. Sorry I haven't talked to you yet.”

“You're a celebrity today, Walls,” Dick said, very much trying to reach for his usual humour. “You can't talk to all your admiring fans at once. Believe me, I know the feeling.”

“Heh. Yeah.” Wally sobered. “Listen, did you need to talk about something? You've been pretty distant today and I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I'll tell you later,” Dick said. “Go enjoy the party.”

Wally plastered a smile on his face, but Dick could easily tell it wasn't genuine. “I'll enjoy it more if you're with me.”

Dick shook his head. “I'm really not in the partying mood today. Sorry. I'll just drag you down. Go have fun.”

The constructed smile slid off Wally's face to be replaced with a frown. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Dick held back a groan. Of course Wally would assume it was his fault. “I'm just in a shit mood. I promise I'll explain later, but right now I'd really just rather sit quietly over here.”

“I'm keeping an eye on him,” Zatanna told Wally. “He'll be fine. M'gann's bringing out another cake. Go blow out some more candles.”

M'gann set the cake on the coffee table. Wally reluctantly let Dick be, after staring at him sadly for a solid ten seconds. Dick hid his face in his hands the instant he was gone. God.

“What fresh hell is in your head now?” Zatanna asked him.

Dick rubbed his hands along his face and sat back up. “I didn't want to upset him.”

“You did your best. You know Wally's a real worry-wart when it comes to you.”

“That doesn't make me feel better, Zee.”

Zatanna shrugged. “I tried.”

A tiny snort came out of Dick's mouth. That was about as close to humour as he could get today. Zatanna got him some ice cream instead of cake this time. It was easier to eat. His teeth stung a bit at the cold. He needed to get on top of his oral hygiene again, but spending too long in the bathroom at the moment was hard for him to handle.

Kaldur came to sit on Dick's other side. “Welcome back, Dick.”

Prior to Dick's abduction, Kaldur had usually referred to him using his proper name. Dick was glad for the change. He didn't want to be called Richard ever again if he could help it, but of course that wasn't practical. He had to get over it before he was called into testify at court, because they would most certainly be referring to him by his legal name.

Kaldur didn't press for conversation, but it was nice to sit next to him and Zatanna in companionable silence, watching the party unfold. Wally was visibly distracted, his gaze regularly falling back in Dick's direction.

“Is everything all right?” Kaldur asked. “I do not mean to pry. Please do not feel obligated to tell me anything you would prefer to keep to yourself.”

Dick appreciated that. “Just an issue I have to discuss with Wally later,” he replied. “My brain's being an asshole today and I've been a bit of an asshole myself because of that.”

“Dick doesn't feel like being at the centre of the party today,” Zatanna translated. “He didn't want to tell Wally what's going on with him at the moment because he doesn't want him to worry, but Wally pressed the issue a little bit and Dick had to tell him very politely to shove off.”

“I see,” Kaldur said, and left it at that. They sat quietly for a bit longer. Kaldur's calming presence started to rub off on Dick, and he found himself relaxing a little. That little knot that seemed to live in his stomach almost constantly these days loosened ever so slightly. Not enough for him to feel truly at peace, but enough that he probably wouldn't be quite as drained after all this as he'd anticipated. That was actually quite a win, as annoying as it was to admit.

Finally, the party began to wind down. The leaguers had left and the team started the cleanup. M'gann insisted Dick didn't have to help, but he wanted to do something after being so antisocial. M'gann had him drying dishes. Wally was putting them away at super-speed. Dick focused hard on holding the dishes so he wouldn't drop them whenever he jumped. And he was jumping a lot. Every time Wally zipped past him, to be precise. Wally eventually slowed down and started putting the dishes away at normal speed. Dick pretended not to notice. He felt bad enough about everything already.

Dick was exhausted and cranky by the time the dishes were done. Being around Wally wasn't helping. M'gann picked up on Dick's mood and started shooing everyone out of the kitchen. She got him a glass of water.

“You okay?” she asked, watching him drain the glass in several gulps. Dick passed her the glass to wash when he was done with it.

“I'm just tired,” he told her. “I wasn't feeling that great when I got here.”

“I could tell.” M'gann buried the glass in the soapy water of the sink. “I didn't talk to you because you seemed pretty overloaded already and I thought Zatanna would be enough for you.” She passed him the cleaned glass.

“Thanks.” Dick dried it and put it away. “I should talk to Wally. I may have blown him off a little bit earlier.”

“If you wanted to wait until you felt better, I'm sure he'd understand.”

“We'll see.” Dick folded the drying cloth. “I might start talking and see how it goes. Thanks, M'gann.” He considered giving her a kiss on the cheek, but ultimately decided physical contact would just drain him further. He needed all the energy he had left to tell Wally what was going on with him.

Wally was chatting with Zatanna and Conner in the sitting area. The rest of the team had apparently gone home, or maybe just gone to bed here given the lateness of the hour.

“Hey,” Wally said when he noticed Dick's approach.

“Hey. Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Wally got up.

Zatanna grabbed his wrist. “Be gentle with him, or I'll turn you into a toad.”

Wally nodded solemnly and followed Dick out of the room. Dick got halfway to his room before he hung back to let Wally walk next to him. He didn't feel entirely comfortable with people following him today.

“I'm sorry I blew you off earlier,” Dick said, keying in the code to his bedroom door. “I didn't want to drag down the party by getting into some heavy shit that's been bothering me today.”

Wally sighed. “ _Dick_.”

“Please don't do that.” Dick stepped inside the room and locked the door as soon as Wally was inside. “I need to tell you about some stuff that happened in the... the brothel.” Dick hadn't settled on a name for the place he felt comfortable saying. “The part I'm going to tell you has been on my mind today, for reasons you'll probably figure out as soon as I start talking.”

Wally sat on the bed. “I'm all ears.”

“You remember Luke?”

Wally's voice dropped an octave in pure rage. “Vividly.”

“Do you remember me mentioning he'd had his eighteenth birthday before you guys rescued me?”

Wally squinted in concentration. “I do, yeah. It must've slipped my mind until now. Sorry. A lot was going on that night. You said something about being his birthday present? Is this what today's been about?”

“Yeah.” Dick's mouth went dry at the memory. “It didn't hit me until this morning.”

“I'm so sorry, babe. I should've remembered.”

“It's okay. I didn't want to ruin your birthday by mentioning it sooner.” Dick looked down at his fidgeting hands. He couldn't stand to look at Wally while he said the next bit. “Plus, I didn't feel entirely... safe. With you.”

Wally ran a hand over his face and up into his hair. “God. No wonder you were avoiding me today. Zatanna took care of you, though, didn't she?” Dick nodded. “Okay. That's good. So, uh, just to be clear: I'm never going to touch you without your permission.”

“I know that,” Dick said, maybe a little sharply than was really warranted. “It's not about knowing. I don't have a lot of control over my emotions at the moment. I just... the thing with Luke messed me up in a lot of ways everything else didn't. He presented himself as our protector and he even gave me pain medication after Skinner had his people...” Dick couldn't finish the sentence. He could almost feel their stinking, sweaty bodies on him again, and he had to fight the urge to throw up. “Anyway, he acted like he was looking out for us but in reality he was just there to keep us in line. Skinner spent a decade brainwashing him and promising he would get to join them when he turned eighteen. So when that finally happened, they all watched while Luke cuffed me, gagged me and did whatever he wanted to me.”

Wally was starting to look a bit sick himself. Dick pressed a hand over his own eyes and took a few increasingly shallow breaths. He heard the mattress move, and he could sense Wally was in front of him.

“Don't touch me. Please.”

“Okay,” Wally said softly.

“It was just...” Dick swallowed, and brought his hand down. He picked a spot on the wall to talk to instead of Wally. “He knew I was into guys, so he tried to make me like what he did to me. It... I haven't told anyone this, but my body... it... kind of responded? Just a bit? I don't know. It's hard to think about without my head hurting. I mean, I didn't want it to but I couldn't...” Talking was getting difficult.

“You don't have to justify it,” Wally told him. “To anyone. Ever. What he did was wrong and you've got every right to be messed up over it.”

Dick nodded. It couldn't quite sink into his brain, but it sounded correct. Maybe he'd be able to accept it eventually. Just not tonight.

“Did you need to lie down?”

Dick's body ran cold, and he stopped breathing.

“Not like that,” Wally said quickly. “Nothing sexual. I promise. You just look like you need a rest.”

Dick forced air back into his lungs. He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I don't think I can do that with you in the room at the moment, though. Sorry.”

“It's okay.” Wally unlocked the door. “I'm gonna get some shuteye in my room. If you need me, you know where to find me.” He stepped out. Dick locked the door again.

He climbed into bed and curled up under the covers. The worst part of it all was, even after everything Luke did, it was getting harder to hate him completely. Dick still wanted to see him punished for what he did, but he could no longer grasp at the total burning hatred he once had for the man. And he was barely a man at that.

Actually, no. That wasn't the worst part because the worst part was that it had happened at all. The worst part was that it was affecting his relationship with Wally, who was the one person who had always felt able to speak with candidly about things that were bothering him. Everything was the worst part.

Thinking about it all his brain and chest hurt. God, he was tired. Today had taken everything he had, and he'd barely done anything at all.

Still, the fact that he'd been able to talk about what Luke did was something. Maybe Dinah's therapy was actually helping him. Either that or, with enough necessity, Dick could plough through almost any obstacle his brain put before him. Maybe it was both?

Yeah, probably both.


	24. Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My summaries and chapter titles are utterly amazing, okay? This chapter got longer than intended and I ended up not including some things I'd planned to, but couldn't get them to work so goodbye to those bits. I think I'm tired. And maybe a bit anxious. School's a mess.
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING NOTE: There's some serious recapping of the rape situation in this chapter, and also a PTSD flashback and discussion of attempted suicide. Also quite a bit of nausea and vomiting, because that seems to be what I naturally gravitate towards when writing characters not feeling very nice.***
> 
> Ramble about research issues: I had a hell of a time figuring out term dates for 2011 because Google was unhelpful, so I've given my best guess by working with a traditional concept for start of the 2nd semester in the US where it starts right after the September Labor Day. So that's why Dick's abduction is the date it is. I can't believe I didn't bother working it out sooner. Also, anybody familiar with how criminal trials actually work will probably hate me because this is probably really inaccurate. I did try to do some research but I tend to have issues reading large paragraphs of nonfiction, especially when tired, so that limited me a bit. Hopefully I did enough, especially regarding my Double Jeopardy invention that I had to do in order to make some later plot points work because I'm hopeless and didn't look it up while planning the story. But, hey. It's fanfiction of a cartoon of a comic book. Some artistic licence is expected, provided the emotional truth is there and I've avoided being an offensive jerk.
> 
> I think I've covered everything.
> 
> EDIT: Nope, I haven't. Totally forgot to mention the district attorney is Janet Van Dorn from Batman: The Animated Series. Now I think that's everything.

Dick gradually relaxed around Wally, but not yet to the point where they could sleep in the same room. He did let Wally hold him after he came home shaking after submitting to his second STI test, though. That had been a rough day.

The details of the trial finally got sorted out. Brian Harris and Kevin Scott had been found with another set of trafficked children, so they were added along with all known clients and the adults in charge of the other facilities Dick hadn't personally seen. Skinner was the linchpin of the whole case; he had ties to every facility. If he went down, the others would likely go down with him. Luke would be facing trial under the insanity plea. Dick was okay with that. He couldn't imagine Luke would handle prison very well after a decade of abuse. Despite everything that had happened between them, Dick was mature enough to admit Luke needed psychiatric help more than he needed to be locked in a room with other criminals.

The district attorney, Janet Van Dorn, was handling the case personally. She was a no-nonsense woman with only a grudging respect for Batman that had been hard-earned, but she knew what she was doing nonetheless. She would push for the hardest sentences possible, and she had proven incorruptible ever since she'd taken over the post from Harvey Dent. She came down like the fist of an angry god upon any criminal who tried to bribe her or game the system.

While reading up on developments that had occurred prior to his return after his death, Dick had discovered she had been the driving force behind greater measures against corruption, even managing to get an exception to Double Jeopardy passed that allowed for acquittals to be overturned in the event of a mistrial due to provable actions taken by the defendant or their attorney. Prior to that, criminals who got off due to bribing officials or jury members and were later found out couldn't be retried for the same crimes. Van Dorn had put a stop to that, and other states had started considering the amendment themselves.

“I understand you've testified at a criminal trial before,” Van Dorn said to Dick when they got to meet a few days prior to the trial. She was behind her desk and Dick sat in front with Bruce next to him.

“Yeah, the Zucco trial.”

Van Dorn straightened some papers on her desk. “You're older now, so the court will expect more from you. I'll do what I can to stop the defence from intimidating or discrediting you, but the judge will decide whether or not they cross the line. Just don't let them scare you and don't get angry. How you behave at home afterwards is your business, but in that courtroom you have to be calm and polite, even when they are not. The defence knows they will have a hard time winning this case, and they will use every trick they can to get the upper hand. Do you understand what I'm telling you?”

“I understand.” This was starting to sound like a bad idea, but there was no way Dick was going to back out now. Only a handful of kids were in a fit state to testify—a good chunk were too young and quite a few others were too traumatised to be of much use. They needed every witness they could get, and Dick's secret training as both Robin and Nightwing ensured he had a greater capacity to handle what was thrown at him, despite being mentally ill, which was also a secret.

“Good. Now, Mr Wayne.” Van Dorn clasped her hands together on the desk. “This trial will be difficult for Richard.” Dick fought back a flinch at the use of his legal name, forcing himself to remember most adults called him Richard and it had nothing to do with the people inside the facility calling him that. “His home life needs to be entirely stress-free. I understand he has yet to return to school?”

“That's correct.”

“Good. Given the circumstances, it would be best if he didn't go back until after the trial has finished. Get him into therapy if you haven't already. If there are any family conflicts, resolve them immediately or put them aside until later. Richard is our only witness who has the privilege of a stable home life, so it may be up to him to answer questions and discuss details the other witnesses cannot due to their lack of a support network.”

“I'll talk to the rest of the family and we'll sort it out,” Bruce replied. “I'll see what I can do about getting support for the other children.”

“That will have to wait until after the trial,” Van Dorn told him. “Otherwise, the defence may claim you're bribing the children to testify.”

“What a world we live in,” Dick commented.

“I wish the caution were unnecessary,” said Van Dorn. “Use the time to plan how best to help them.”

“I will,” Bruce replied. “Was there anything else?”

“You already have the required dates. Let's see...” Van Dorn sifted through her papers. “I'm sure I don't need to tell you not to speak with the jurors, even about unrelated topics. We don't need the headache. Follow instructions to the letter so we can avoid the defence calling for a mistrial. I would also advise avoiding the defendants and the defence attorney outside the courtroom. I've worked opposite their attorney before. He is hard on witnesses testifying against his clients. He's careful to keep the judge out of the loop, but I have had witnesses complain about him before.”

“Sounds like a fun guy,” said Dick. His sense of humour had improved a bit in the time he'd been home, though it was still mostly relegated to sarcasm as a defence mechanism.

“Keep that humour out of the courtroom,” Van Dorn told him.

“It's taken me this long to find a sense of humour again,” Dick replied. “It'll probably disappear on the day anyway. It gets flighty in the face of sheer, soul-shrivelling terror.”

He hadn't expected Van Dorn to laugh, and she didn't. No surprise there. Dick and Bruce left her office shortly afterwards. Dick kind of wanted an ice cream cone, but he also didn't want to be out in the city for any longer than necessary. The media had been particularly vulture-like of late. Bruce got him a soft serve cone through a fast food drive-through on the way home. Dick was able to finish it, but he felt a little sick afterwards.

They arrived about the same time Alfred was bringing Jason home from school. Dick and Jason still hadn't said more than three words to each other, though not for a lack of trying on Dick's part.

“Hey, Jay,” Dick said. “How was school?”

Jason shrugged.

“Did you get your essay back?” Bruce asked him.

Jason nodded.

“How'd you do?” Dick asked.

Jason finally opened his mouth. “Got an A.”

“That's great,” Dick told him. “What was it about?”

“Themes in _Lord of the Flies_.”

“Did you like the book?”

“Eh. It was all right.”

“He read it in a day,” Bruce said. “And he was very angry at the characters.”

“That's an appropriate reaction,” Dick replied.

“Thank you!” Jason exclaimed, and suddenly the floodgates were open. “Bruce just laughed at me when I told him Jack was an ass. And he just smiled and nodded when I said that shi—stuff wouldn't have happened if they'd all been girls instead.”

“You should tell that to Barbara,” Dick said. “She'd love you forever.”

Jason chuckled a little bit, rubbing the back of his neck. Dick had almost forgotten about his crush. He wasn't going to encourage it, since the age gap was too much when Jason was only fourteen to Barbara's seventeen and Dick was a lot more sensitive about that kind of thing these days. But he certainly wasn't going to tear Jason down for a crush he was unlikely to act on, either.

Dick realised nobody had said anything for at least a minute. “So, uh... do you have homework?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“Need a hand?”

“I guess.”

They set up in the living room, kneeling in front of the coffee table that now held Jason's books. Alfred brought them cookies while Dick was helping Jason through a complicated math problem. He hadn't been this focused around schoolwork for a long time. Maybe it was because he was helping somebody do theirs, rather than trying to plough through his own.

Wally showed up shortly after Jason had moved onto his science homework.

“Nice timing,” Dick said. “Get over here. We're doing science.”

Wally plopped himself down on Jason's free side. “Ooh, chemistry. My favourite.”

Jason pushed him over. “You're in my light.”

“I _am_ the light,” Wally replied.

Dick snorted. “Well, it's good you have confidence.”

“Why _wouldn't_ I? I mean, look at me.”

Jason groaned and threw his head down on top of his books. “Oh my god. Shut up.”

Wally mimed zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. Jason went back to his homework. He didn't need too much help, really. Considering he had missed a bit of school when he'd had to look after his mother, and then even more after she died, he was doing brilliantly. Dick couldn't take too much credit for that, but he felt proud nonetheless.

Jason finished his homework and went upstairs to put it away. Dick knew he and Jason still weren't okay, but neither of them were ready to address it properly. He'd just have to keep trying to make their encounters as non-awkward as possible.

“How'd your meeting with the DA go?” Wally asked.

“It was okay,” Dick replied. “Van Dorn's a hardass, but that's probably a good thing in this case. She's not going to put up with any bullshit, and her heart's in the right place. Bruce is a bit peeved he's not allowed to help the other kids until the trial's over in case the defence claims he's bribing them.”

Wally got up and pulled Dick to his feet. “What a world we live in, huh?”

“That's what I said.”

They fell onto the couch. Dick kicked off his shoes and tucked his legs beneath himself. He almost didn't—he'd take extra time getting up to defend himself if he was attacked—but he fought against that irrational instinct. Intellectually, he knew Bruce had taken extra measures to stop anybody breaking in again, but that didn't stop the anxiety. The security had been breached once; it could always happen again.

“Hey.”

Dick snapped out of his reverie. “Yeah?”

“Lost you for moment,” Wally said, watching him closely. “Everything okay?”

Dick was strongly tempted to say no, because nothing had been okay for a very long time. He wanted to list every piece of bullshit that had been thrown at him just in this year alone. He wanted to kick the coffee table until the damn thing splintered or his foot broke, whichever came first.

But instead, he replied, “Yeah. Fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Of course Wally didn't buy it.

“Sorry.” Dick rested the side of his face against the couch cushion. “I'm not okay. I'm never okay. I'm in a permanent state of not-okayness but I feel like I can't say that every time somebody asks because it just... I don't know. It gets old. Like I should be snapping out of it but I can't.”

“Are you sure you'll be up to testifying at the trial?” Wally asked him.

“I don't know, Wally. I really don't. But I have to try.”

“I'll support whatever decision you make,” Wally said. “Hug?” Dick shuffled forward, and Wally helped him climb onto his lap. “If you get up on the stand, I'll support you. If you get there and realise you can't do it at the last minute, I'll support you. Hell, if you get there, realise you can't do it and then decide to dump me and run away to Sweden, I'd be confused as hell but I'd still support you anyway.”

“Thanks. I think.” Dick was half-braced to start freaking out about being right in Wally's space, but it didn't quite happen. Wally rubbed his back until he relaxed. This was okay. Wally had been careful about touching him ever since he got out of _that_ place, and even more so after Dick had admitted Wally turning eighteen made him uncomfortable. That made it easier to get closer to him again, to regain the ground he'd lost. He couldn't bear the thought of what Skinner and his people did coming between him and Wally, not when they'd stuck together through so much already.

“So, are you and Jason talking again?” Wally asked after a while.

“Not really,” Dick replied, snuggling closer. “We just talked about school, with help from Bruce, and then I helped him with his homework. That's better, but we didn't really fix anything. And I don't have the strength for the conversation we obviously need to have.”

“Yeah, he's been a bit off ever since you were... you know, taken. And I don't think he took what he saw during our eight or so rescue missions very well. Dinah tried to get him to open up, but he's not ready for that.”

“And that's exactly why I'm going to leave it. There's no way I have the capacity to have that conversation with him, even if he was ready to talk about it.”

“Maybe things'll change after the trial.”

Dick rested his head against Wally's shoulder and closed his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Maybe Wally really did believe that, but Dick didn't. The trial felt like a huge brick wall in his path, and here he was without his utility belt.

* * *

Dick had planned to attend the opening day of the trial, but he woke that morning with a clamp on his guts that made eating even more impossible than usual and everybody in the house, including Wally and Jason, sent him straight back to bed. Wally had to go to school and Bruce took Jason to class before heading to the trial himself, so it was just Dick and Alfred in the house.

Aside from feeling too anxious to stay in the manor proper and therefore spending most of the day in the batcave, the day wasn't wholly unpleasant. Dick ran Bruce's new obstacle course to work off his restless energy and then spent the next few hours playing chess with Alfred. And losing badly due to a lack of focus. Not that he usually beat Alfred at chess anyway.

Dick slept in the cave that night, but calmed down enough to sleep in the manor for the rest of the nights leading up to his testimony date.

On that day, Dick spent most of the morning being violently ill in the bathroom. Food was completely out of the question. Alfred had him chewing ice chips and drinking mint tea, which helped settle his stomach a little. He managed to have a few spoonfuls of chicken broth Alfred had prepared earlier in anticipation of this very situation. Wally rubbed his back through the whole ordeal.

Once his stomach had settled enough to (hopefully) travel, everybody, including Jason as he'd insisted on coming along, piled into the car. Dick's hands sat on his knees, trembling and clenched into fists, for the entire journey.

The steps to the courthouse were already filled with reporters. Alfred drove around to the back entrance, where some police officers were stationed. Bruce took the wheel to park the car elsewhere, after a short argument with Alfred, and Alfred brought the others inside.

It was weird being here again. The last time Dick had come through these doors had been as the heavily-armed Red Hood. So much had happened since then. It felt like a lifetime ago. He felt infinitely more vulnerable now.

They caught up with Bruce again in a quiet room, where Dick was to wait until he was called in to testify. What little remained in Dick's stomach rattled inside him.

“Will you be okay if Jason and I leave to watch the trial?” Bruce asked, kneeling to match Dick's seated height. “Alfred and Wally will stay here with you.” Bruce had testified the day before, though it hadn't taken very long since he was really only there to describe the state of Dick's room when he'd gone to check up on him. Van Dorn had managed to get the testimonies ordered in such a way so that Bruce could be present for Dick's.

Dick nodded in response to Bruce's question. Very few people knew where he was, even if they wanted to risk attacking him. And Wally had been working on ways to fight without risking his identity, even if it came to that. But it wouldn't. Commissioner Gordon had seen to the building's security personally, and Bruce as Batman was satisfied with all the measures he had taken. That had to be enough.

Bruce took Jason off to the trial, leaving Dick with Alfred and Wally.

Despite his rationalisations, Dick kept a death grip on Wally's hand, perched on the edge of his seat. His leg bounced constantly. He couldn't get comfortable. He couldn't sit still.

“Breathe, babe,” Wally said.

Dick laughed weakly. “I think I've forgotten how.”

“That is unfortunate, sir,” said Alfred.

“I should've brought an oxygen tank.” Okay, air. Air was good. Air was important. Dick sucked in a few deep breaths until he stopped feeling like he'd pass out any second.

The clock on the wall ticked in the silence. Dick lost count of how many ticks and tocks struck his ears before he was finally summoned to the courtroom, his legs turning to jelly. Wally held him tightly for a few moments until he could stand on his own.

“You've got this,” Wally told him.

“We will be watching in the audience, sir,” Alfred added.

Wally, stepped back, giving Dick's hand one last squeeze. “Now let's go put some assholes in prison, hey?”

Dick managed to smile a little bit through the anxiety shredding his insides. “Okay. Yeah. Let's do this.”

Alfred and Wally slipped inside the courtroom before Dick entered. He quickly spotted where they were sitting with Bruce and Jason, and also deliberately avoided looking at the defendant's area. Skinner was present with the other main players, he knew that already, and would undoubtedly grasp at any opportunity to throw him off his game.

Dick could've sleepwalked through all the housekeeping stuff—all that swearing to tell the whole truth, answering basic factual questions about himself—for all the mind he paid it. He knew he hadn't screwed anything up, but it was so immensely boring and he really wanted to just get the whole thing over with so he could get the real questions out of the way and get out of here.

Finally, Van Dorn got to that. “Now, Mr Grayson. What happened to you the night of Friday the Sixteenth of September?”

“I went to bed around eight o' clock and woke up with a gun to my head and four people in the room,” Dick answered. He felt a little proud of how even his voice sounded. There was plenty of time for that to stop, though.

“Did you recognise any of them?” Van Dorn prompted.

“Mr Smith talked to me,” Dick replied, just barely remembering to use the correct alias. “He was my history teacher, so I recognised his voice. He was the one holding the gun to my head.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He told me to cooperate and be quiet or he'd kill my brother, Jason.” Dick couldn't help but glance in Jason's direction at that, but Jason was studiously not looking at him and it was outright painful to keep watching.

“Who was asleep in his room just across the hallway,” Van Dorn finished for him. “And what did Smith do that required your cooperation?”

Dick swallowed, and forged ahead as strongly as he could. “He held me down and raped me.” He caught Jason's flinch out of the corner of his eye. “Then he and his three friends took me with them when they left.”

“We have already seen the forensic evidence to support your testimony,” said Van Dorn. “It would appear, once the alarms were deactivated by cutting power to the sensors as discussed prior to your testimony, you were taken through the window, down a ladder, across the lawn and over another ladder to leave the grounds of Wayne Manor. Is that correct?”

“That's correct. They had a van waiting with a fifth man driving.”

“What happened in that van?”

“Smith tied me to the ceiling with rope,” Dick replied. “I had to stand to stop my arms getting pulled. Smith was beside me, another man—that one,” he said, pointing to the correct man, “sat opposite me, and those two...” he pointed to another pair of men, “guarded the doors. That man was the driver.” He pointed to him.

“The van and your room were dark, yes?” said Van Dorn. “Did you get a good look at the men before they put you in the van?”

“Yes. It wasn't a very dark night.”

“So you are confident these five men are the men who abducted you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Describe the remainder of the abduction.”

“They drove me into the city somewhere,” Dick replied. “I managed to get the rope loose and escape from the van there, but there were guards out and Smith chased me down. He threatened to go back to the manor and kill my brother anyway, and then he knocked me out.”

“What happened when you woke up?” Van Dorn asked him.

“That guy woke me up in the morning,” Dick said, pointing to one of the men from the van, the one who'd sat opposite him during that trip.

“How did you know it was morning?” Van Dorn interrupted. Dick didn't feel offended by that; she was just trying to make sure there were no holes in his story.

“There was a small window,” Dick answered. “I couldn't see out of it, but it let light in.”

“Very well. Continue.”

“The guy who woke me took me to a dormitory full of other children,” Dick continued. “That's where I met Luke.”

“Who is also facing charges under the insanity plea,” Van Dorn added. “But at this time you were unaware of his involvement in the organisation, correct?”

“Correct,” Dick echoed. “Luke explained the situation to me and told me to behave myself to avoid getting myself or someone else hurt. I met a few other children—namely the twins, Brandon and Bethany who were later murdered—and then got sent off to initiation.”

“Brandon and Bethany's bodies were recovered by the police,” said Van Dorn. “Describe this intitiation.”

“Okay...” Dick had to take in a deep breath, the images and sounds and smells and painful sensations already swirling in his head. “Two men came to get me from the dormitory.” Dick pointed them out. “I know that one's name is Brian White.” He'd learned the surname belatedly. “They took me to a room with a metal door and a large bed surrounded by chairs. Brian cuffed me to the bed. There were fourteen men there, including the two who brought me. Smith was there.” Dick had to breathe, to compose himself. “He told them to break me in. Brian started first. He...” Dick was going to throw up if he kept talking about this for much longer. He swallowed. “He put his hand on my throat.” Dick could almost feel his trachea rasping for air as he touched a finger to his throat. “He... forced himself on me. He had me to himself for a while, but then the others joined in.”

“I think we've heard enough,” Van Dorn finally said, releasing Dick from the torture. “To clarify what has just been said, Richard just described a brutal gang rape instigated by Mr Smith and carried out by him and thirteen of his associates.” Van Dorn pointed out all the perpetrators from the defendants, which saved Dick from having to do so. “Richard, are you able to tell us what occurred afterwards?”

Dick took a sip of water, before saying yes. “Smith had Brian take me to get patched up and showered. Brian watched me in the shower. Then he took me back to the dormitory, where I stayed the rest of the night.”

“We have heard other witnesses describe the sleeping arrangements,” Van Dorn said. “To recap, most children were required to share their beds despite the lack of space in each bed for the number of inhabitants they were required to accommodate. Thank you, Richard. I have more questions, if you don't mind?”

“Go ahead,” Dick said. He almost wanted to think the worst was over, but he'd still have to talk about Luke and what happened to Brandon and Bethany. And then there was the cross-examination. The defense attorney was eyeing him like a shark hanging out for his next meal, which didn't bode well.

“Would you care to describe mealtimes for the jury?” Van Dorn asked. “Were there any particular requirements?”

“We had to eat,” Dick replied. “My bunkmates, Brandon and Bethany, warned me we'd get punished if we didn't. I didn't know what that meant until Bethany got sick.”

“Would you like to tell us what happened to her?”

“Bethany caught some kind of stomach bug,” Dick said. “It made her very weak and nauseous, and it quickly spread to other kids. She had to carry a bucket because she was vomiting so much, and she couldn't even stomach the thought of food. Brandon tried to get her to eat, but she couldn't, and that eventually attracted a guard's attention. That guard.” Dick pointed him out in the crowd. “He threatened to orally rape her if she didn't eat. I got smacked in the face when I tried to stand up for her. Brandon lost his temper and dived at the guard. I got Bethany away from him and Luke and I tried to talk him out of punishing Brandon, but the guard beat him to death right in front of her.”

“Bethany died shortly thereafter, I understand.”

“She did.” Dick took a heavy breath to try and dislodge the pain in his chest. “Another girl, Amber, and I tried to take care of her, but I got dosed with fear gas by a client and ended up in solitary confinement until it wore off naturally. She died while I was there.”

“How old were Brandon and Bethany when they died?” Van Dorn asked.

“Twelve.” Dick's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “They were twelve.”

“And they were by no means the youngest lives claimed by Mr Smith and his people,” Van Dorn said to the jury. “I understand the Justice League sent a team to rescue you and your fellow captives while you were in solitary confinement. Why did they fail?”

“Luke convinced the other kids to stay put,” Dick replied. “He told them anybody who left would endanger anyone who chose to remain, and that attempting escape would be too risky in the first place. He also told the rescue team I wasn't in the building. They were forced to leave.”

“Hearsay,” the defence attorney piped up. “There's absolutely no evidence to support that claim.”

“No charges are being pressed for lying about a person's location or convincing potential rescuees not to cooperate,” Van Dorn countered. “It is included to provide a clearer picture of the entire situation.”

“I'll allow it this time,” said the judge. “But avoid tangential arguments in the future.”

“Very well.” Van Dorn turned back to Dick. “After your confinement, you and your fellow captives were moved to a new location, from whence you were eventually rescued. Is this correct?”

“Yes,” Dick replied.

“You became quite ill during the journey, and yet you survived when other children did not. Why?”

“Brian was on guard duty the day I couldn't eat in the new cafeteria,” Dick replied. “He followed through on the oral rape threat, which made me throw up.” Dick swallowed down acid at the memory. “Smith showed up to see what was going on. Amber and I convinced him it was a better idea to treat sick kids to protect his investment rather than just letting us die. I got punched in the face for my trouble, but the surviving kids and I did get treated. A few still died, but the rest of us pulled through.”

“The Gotham City Police Department's medical examiner has already discussed these deaths,” Van Dorn told the jury. “You attempted to escape your situation through suicide using medication you collected during your hospital stay, correct?”

“Yes,” Dick said stiffly. He hadn't talked about it much to anyone, honestly, but the prosecution didn't want to risk omitting any details lest the defence use it as an excuse to call for a mistrial or something.

“You suffered another abuse from Brian during your second hospital stay as a result of this attempt, where you suffered a broken rib, correct?”

“Yes.” Dick really wished they'd move on from this bit already. It didn't seem like Van Dorn was going to make a big thing out of it, fortunately, but he still wanted to stop talking about it.

“What occurred upon your second release?”

“I was sent back to the initiation room,” Dick answered. “Smith and most of his staff were there, but Luke was the reason I was there. For his eighteenth birthday, and his own initiation as a member of the organisation. He pinned me to the mattress, gagged me and... well, penetrated me. Slowly. He said he wanted me to enjoy it.”

“And this was a surprise to you,” said Van Dorn.

“Yes,” Dick responded. “Whatever he'd done before, I hadn't known he'd stoop to that level until he did.” His energy was slowly seeping out of him. His eyes itched. It was hard to keep projecting his voice enough to be heard.

“And shortly after this is when Lex Luthor arrived, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Luthor has yet to take the stand,” said Van Dorn. “Please describe the meeting.”

“He saved my life after my suicide attempt. Apparently he'd been the client I was supposed to meet, but I didn't know that at the time.” Dick took a second to get his thoughts in order. His nerves were frayed from everything else he'd had to talk about, but he had to hold on a bit longer and get the rest of this out. “I was sent to meet him the morning after Luke raped me. I, uh, cried a bit when I saw him, to tell the truth. He calmed me down and apologised for scaring me.”

“How did he come to be there?”

“Luthor told me a lot of criminals like sending him things because of his reputation,” Dick replied. “He got an invitation that mentioned me by name, so he came to see what was happening.”

“What did you discuss with him?”

“He said he could get people to extract me, but I convinced him to save the other kids as well,” Dick replied. “He agreed to contact Bruce and the police and pass on our location.”

“Did Smith and his associates take measures to prevent clients from providing this information?”

“They did. But Luthor found a way around them. You'd have to ask him for details.”

“He will take the stand shortly,” Van Dorn replied. “Thank you. Just a few more questions and then I will let the defence have their turn. What happened the night of your escape?”

“The Justice League sent their infiltration team in to get us out,” Dick replied. “I think they call themselves Young Justice?”

“That is the name we have on file, yes. Continue.”

“They saved me from my last pair of clients. Their IDs are part of the collection I passed on to the police. I knew the place better than the team did, so I led them to the nearest of the two dormitories.”

“Where Luke attempted to stop you.”

“He ran off as soon as the others decided to leave with us rather than listen to him,” Dick continued. “The team brought us outside to where the police were waiting. The building exploded then, with the kids from the other dormitory still inside. The team rushed in to help. I got about halfway there before an officer told me there was nothing I could do and turned me away.” That memory still burned him. The thought of Amber getting caught in that...

“And then you were abducted?”

Dick nodded. “Yes. Luke took advantage of the smoke when I got outside and grabbed me. He put a gun to my head and dragged me away from the police line. Batman found us and tried to talk Luke down. He used a batarang to get the gun out of his hand when Luke started to hesitate.”

“That was risky,” Van Dorn said. “How did Batman know you wouldn't be harmed?”

“I nodded to him,” Dick replied. “It's not the first time I've been in a hostage situation where Batman's had to save me. I know how to get away from a gun about to go off, especially if the person holding the gun is distracted. Then I punched Luke out. Batman didn't like that very much.” He heard Jason snort a little bit in the audience. “Batman cuffed Luke, got an officer to collect him and then took me back to the police himself.”

“And from there, you and the other survivors were taken to the hospital and treated,” Van Dorn finished the story. “One more question, regarding the evidence you collected. Would you like to describe the process of collecting your evidence, and what exactly this evidence is?”

“I collected forms of identification from the clients Smith's organisation sent me to... entertain.” It was a weak word, but Dick didn't have the brainpower to come up with something more apt. “I usually swiped driver's licences because they were small. The clients didn't notice. I wasn't a threat to them. I'm a small fifteen-year-old boy with a rich dad, and generally at this point they'd already had their way with me and were cleaning themselves up in the adjacent bathroom. I hid the IDs in a slit I made in the bottom of my pants, and then transferred them to a pillowcase I hid in the bed. Amber started doing the same thing herself. The pillowcase had been her idea.”

“Thank you, Mr Grayson. I've no more questions, Your Honour.”

The judge looked to the defence attorney. “The defence now may question the witness.”

The defence attorney stood. “Thank you, Your Honour. Now, Mr Grayson...”

Dick's insides clamped in on themselves.

* * *

Dick made a beeline for his nook in the batcave as soon as he got home. He curled up on the mattress, twisting the blanket in his fists, as the memories attacked. Phantom hands on his body, phantom tastes in his mouth, phantom sounds in his ears—slaps, groans, screams, disgusting liquid squelches that made his stomach churn.

Hurts that had stopped hurting long ago started hurting again. Hands on his throat, bitter tastes on his tongue, Skinner's ragged voice whispering revolting things. He could feel the man's putrid, hot breath against the shell of his ear. The initiation chamber was dark, stuffy. His wrists itched in the cuffs.

“Dick?”

Dick jerked. Nobody called him that here. He was Richard, when people bothered calling him by name at all.

“Dick. Sweetheart.”

Nobody called him that here either.

“Babe, you're having a flashback.”

He was... oh. Dick had twisted the blanket around his wrists. He tried to tug them apart. A pair of freckled hands untangled it for him. Dick blinked. The initiation chamber was still there, but it wasn't the only place. The batcave nook. He was in the batcave.

He stretched out his legs, forcing his toes to uncurl. He could still hear Skinner. And Brian now. Their voices were barely more than air, but they weren't going away.

“You're safe,” Wally said, quietly but firmly. Even so, he was the loudest thing in the room. “You're home, in the batcave. That little treehouse thing you showed me ages ago.”

Air shivered out between Dick's lips. “Get the light?”

Wally reached over and switched on the nearest lamp. Dick squinted against the sudden brightness, but it helped.

“Whatever you've been seeing, it's not real anymore,” Wally told him. “We got you out of there. You're safe.”

Dick sat up slowly. The initiation chamber was still in front of his eyes, but it was dark and the nook was bright. Skinner and Brian's voices were barely there. The taste was still in his mouth, though, and that was going to make him scream if he didn't get rid of it.

“I brought water,” Wally said. “Can you drink some? It might help.”

Dick nodded. Wally pressed a water bottle into his hand. The lid had already been popped for him. It was cool against his tongue and down his throat. It didn't wash the taste away entirely, but it gave him something else to focus on. Something real. He gulped down half the bottle before he felt remotely human again.

“Did you want something to eat?” Wally asked him.

“Ugh.”

“I'll take that as a no.”

Dick rolled his tongue around in his mouth. The taste was coming back. “I should eat. Something strong. Like chocolate? I don't know.”

Wally pulled a bar out of his pocket. “I took it as a snack for today but kind of lost my appetite. Here.”

“You sure?”

“Oh, just take it already.” Wally shoved it into Dick's free hand. “I'll get something else later.”

Dick hadn't eaten chocolate in a while. He hadn't had the stomach for much of anything. But he needed the taste now. And it definitely helped wash the initiation chamber from his tongue. His chest still felt tight and his wrists itched and his skin felt dirty and raw, but he knew where he was.

He pulled the blanket over himself. The chocolate didn't sit quite right in his stomach, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Wally sat on the end of the mattress, close, but not touching. Dick couldn't handle touching yet.

“You mind if I call Alfred?” Wally asked after a bit. “Just so everyone knows you're safe.”

Dick nodded. Wally made a quick call on his phone, relaying the promised information and asking for some snacks. Dick grabbed a second blanket and stuck that over the first. He felt a little more secure with the extra weight on him, as silly as he felt for doing it. Wally glanced in his direction, and then asked Alfred for more blankets. Dick managed to smile a little bit in thanks.

He ended up under a pile of blankets, sipping apple juice through a bendy straw while Wally read increasingly ridiculous pieces from random websites about the supposed discovery of various superhero identities. Also that one story about Batman and Bruce Wayne having been secretly married for years. Dick almost choked on his juice at that one.

He still felt worn-out and broken by the time evening arrived, but he was in a better place than he had been earlier. It didn't stop the nightmares, but one phone call brought Wally back up to the nook to help him calm down afterwards. Wally was getting a lot of practice comforting with nothing but words, because Dick still could not stand being touched yet.

Jason eventually found his way up to the nook. He didn't say anything after asking permission to be there. He just conked out on the edge of the mattress and snored until morning. Wally keeled over on the floor at some point, and Dick managed to catch a few minutes of sleep here and there. On one hand, he didn't feel fully comfortable sleeping with other people in the room, but on the other he felt more secure with them there. It was weird. Dick didn't know how to explain it.

He was just glad he didn't have to suffer through it alone.

 


	25. Objection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick grapples with the after-effects of his testimony, and the trial continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for more child rape discussion and a whole lot of victim-blaming.

Dick sat awake early the next morning, burrowed under his blankets, the defence attorney's loaded questions and accusations swimming in his head.

“ _Why did you go to bed so early?”_

“ _I was tired.”_

“ _You were_ tired _. Tired from what?”_

“ _School.”_

“ _Objection. Is this going anywhere?”_

“ _Overruled.”_

“ _See, I have a theory, Mr Grayson. Perhaps you did not go to bed to sleep as you claim. Perhaps you invited these men over, deactivating the security for them so they could enter without--”_

“ _Objection! This is blaming an underage victim for their rape.”_

“ _Sustained. The defence will refrain from accusing the witness.”_

“ _Underage he may be. But exactly_ how _underage are you, Mr Grayson? When is your sixteenth birthday?”_

“ _December first,” Dick answered, grudgingly._

“ _December first! Mere weeks from today.”_

“ _Objection,” Van Dorn said, not even bothering to hide her irritation._

“ _Sustained. The statement is irrelevant.”_

“ _What of my client, Luke?” said the defence attorney. “According to Mr Grayson's story, Luke here had sexual intercourse with him with a three-year age difference, which, according to state law, is perfectly legal. And, yet, my client is accused of--”_

“ _Rape,” Van Dorn snapped. “He is accused of rape. Not statutory rape. Rape.”_

“ _The prosecution will maintain appropriate court manner,” said the judge. Van Dorn looked about ready to tear off somebody's head._

“ _Mr Grayson's homosexual tendencies are common knowledge,” said the defence attorney. “I am merely presenting an alternate interpretation of the evidence.”_

“ _I didn't realise being attracted to a particular gender was an automatic sign of consent,_ sir _.” Dick balled his hands into fists underneath the witness stand. “I'm not the only person who was abducted. Many are younger than I am, and some of them are dead. Are you cherry-picking your evidence?”_

“ _I'm asking the questions here, Mr Grayson.” He turned briefly in the direction of the audience and turned back with a dark smile that put Dick even more on edge. “I see you brought your boyfriend to court today. How old is he?”_

_Dick knew exactly where he was going with this. “He's eighteen.”_

“ _The same age as one of my clients. Interesting. Have you engaged in sexual intercourse with Mr West?”_

“ _No. Despite what the law says, it's still creepy for an adult to have sex with somebody who's underage. Your clients should take that into consideration next time they get a craving.” Dick saw Van Dorn come very close to facepalming, but he'd reached his limit with this utter nonsense and therefore couldn't bring himself to care._

“ _Being, ahem, 'creepy' is not against the law, Mr Grayson.”_

“ _No, but rape is.”_

“ _That's enough,” the judge said. “The witness will refrain from behaving disrespectfully.”_

“ _Am I being held to a higher standard than the guy with a law degree?”_

“ _I said enough.”_

Dick had studiously avoided looking at any news coverage of the trial. He didn't want to know how many people were of a same mind as the defence attorney. He hadn't dared contact anybody from school, not even Barbara or Artemis. He didn't want to hear what his classmates thought of him any more than he wanted to hear the general public's opinion.

Wally yawned loudly from his spot on the floor. He was a blanket burrito with a tuft of red hair sticking out the top, until he sat up, kicked the blanket away and stretched his arms up to the ceiling.

“'Morning,” Dick murmured. Wally flapped one hand in greeting while the other rubbed sleep out of his eyes. Jason stirred at the end of Dick's end and rolled off onto the floor with a grunt. He sat up with a confused frown on his face.

“Worst robin ever,” Wally said. “Pff. Can't even fly.”

“Bite me,” Jason muttered.

“Did you teach him to talk like that?” Wally stage-whispered to Dick, who threw his pillow at him. It made him feel marginally better.

“No, but I'm proud of him anyway.”

“Fair enough. Did you want to come up for breakfast?”

“In a minute. You go on ahead.”

Wally zipped down the ladder. Jason climbed back onto the mattress and sat cross-legged where he'd fallen off.

“You could've asked for a blanket,” Dick said. “I mean, look at me. I think I could've spared one. It's freezing down here.”

Jason shrugged. “Didn't bother me.”

“Okay, but something definitely is. You don't normally sleep in other people's beds. Not that I've noticed, anyway.”

Jason winced a little, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess.”

Dick wriggled his arms free of his blankets. “Okay, talk to me.”

Jason found a loose thread in the mattress sheet and scratched at it rather than look at Dick. “What you said in the trial yesterday. About how they got you.”

Dick caught on. “Ah. Gotcha.”

“You didn't try to escape, because of me?”

“I was outnumbered four to one with a gun to my head,” Dick replied. “I might've tried if they hadn't threatened you, but I probably wouldn't have succeeded.”

“But you still would've had a chance.” Jason still wasn't looking at him. “But you didn't try to get away, because they threatened me.”

“Jason, it's not your fault.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath that Dick didn't quite catch.

“ _Jason_.” Dick kicked off his blankets and climbed over to where his brother sat. “I'm serious. You don't have to feel guilty for sleeping in your own room.”

“They raped you!” Jason spat, glaring up at him at last. “They raped you right in your room, just across the hall from me and _I didn't notice a thing_.”

“Good!” Dick shot back. “If you'd heard, if you'd tried to protect me, they would've killed you!”

“I could've stopped them!” Jason's face was quickly turning red, his voice thick with tears Dick could see glimmering in his eyes.

“Jason Peter Todd, you are a thirteen-year-old _child_ who would've been completely unarmed and unprepared to take on four grown men with _guns_ who had a guy stationed at my _door_ ready to take out anybody who tried to interfere. Meaning you. Meaning you would've lost the fight before you even got into the room. And then you'd be dead and they still would've taken me.”

“You don't know that!”

“I'm pretty damn sure!” Dick grabbed Jason by the shoulders. “I had the element of surprise when I fought my way out of their van and I still didn't get away. You have less training, less experience and would've walked into a far harder fight than I did. You couldn't have helped me, Jason.”

“Bullshit,” Jason growled, tearing himself away. “You don't know me. You don't know what I'm capable of. You and Bruce... you're always underestimating me.”

“Jay, Bruce would've had trouble in that room, and he's the goddamn Batman. And I probably would've been killed if I tried to come to someone else's rescue like that. I'm not trying to insult your abilities. I'm just being realistic here, okay?”

“Whatever.” Jason headed for the ladder. “Doesn't mean I shouldn't have tried.”

Dick shoved his face against the pillow and screamed into it for a good minute. He emerged from the nook into the batcave with that eerie sense of calm that often follows such an outburst. He reached the stairs to the manor at the same time Bruce finished descending them.

“There you are,” Bruce said. “Jason shut himself in his room. Did something happen?”

“We argued,” Dick replied. “Jason's convinced he should've realised I was being attacked the night I was abducted and should've tried to rescue me. I tried to tell him there was nothing he could've done, but he wasn't ready to hear it.”

“All right. I'll talk to him later.” Bruce motioned for Dick to come upstairs, and they made their way into the manor side-by-side. “How are you feeling today?”

“Not great.” The things said at the trial yesterday weighed heavily on his mind.

“I could have Alfred bring some breakfast down to the cave,” Bruce offered.

“No, it's okay. I want to see if I can handle the manor.”

“There's no need to push yourself before you're ready, Dick.” Bruce opened the entrance to the manor. “Nobody will judge you if you have to go back downstairs.”

“Thanks, Bruce.”

They made it to the kitchen, where Alfred had laid out a variety of dishes. Wally had a bit of everything on his plate. Dick took a rasher of bacon to nibble on, and Bruce went straight for the coffee. Dick noticed the dark circles under the man's eyes, and felt a hot swoop of guilt hit his stomach. Finishing that one piece of bacon suddenly became a herculean task. He excused himself as soon as he swallowed the last bite, ignoring Wally's questions and Bruce's silent concern.

It felt childish to burrow right back into the pile of blankets he'd left on the mattress, but he did it anyway. Wally followed him up a short time later.

“Bruce told me you and Jason had a fight,” he said, kneeling on the floor beside the mattress. “You okay?”

“I haven't been okay in years,” Dick grumbled into the pillow, watching Wally out of the corner of his eye. “Jason's not ready to accept he's not to blame for what Skinner and his friends did to me, and I'm not ready to handle him feeling that way. And Bruce looks like a fucking zombie and that's probably my fault, too.”

“No, babe. It's Skinner's fault. You don't need to beat yourself up because you're having trouble coping.” Wally slid down onto his stomach, holding himself up on his elbows so he could still see over the edge of the mattress. “I mean, you're not even the worst at dealing with it that I've seen. But, like, even if you were, that wouldn't matter. You're still allowed to have feelings, even if they're not very nice feelings. You can't control how that affects other people. Jason and Bruce are having issues because they love you and they want to help you. And, look, I'm not going to lie. Trying to help you isn't easy, but it's still not your fault. Whatever the rest of us are going through totally pales in comparison to what you're going through.”

This was another one of those times where Dick could intellectually understand where Wally was coming from, but couldn't absorb what he was saying on an emotional level. The guilt was still there, and it was quickly spreading beyond Bruce and Jason's suffering, to Wally, and to Alfred. To Van Dorn who was having a hell of a time keeping the trial on track with an opponent determined to derail it at every opportunity, and Dick's mere presence handing the greasy bastard weapon after weapon with which to destroy the validity of the case. Dick never should've agreed to testify.

“I'm here if you want to talk,” Wally said gently. “About anything.”

Dick blew out a long breath. “I think I might've ruined the trial by testifying yesterday.”

“What? Because of all that stuff the defence attorney said? The guy's an asshole, and he was way out of line.”

“Does the jury think that?” Dick rolled onto his back and glared up at the wooden panelling Bruce had installed as a makeshift ceiling to stop bat guano getting into the room.

“If they do their jobs properly, yes.”

“This is Gotham. That's a big _if_.”

“You've got the DA on the case,” Wally replied. “She's been fighting the corruption in Gotham for years, from what Bruce told me. You couldn't have a better person on your side.”

“She's good, but I don't know if that's enough.” All Dick could think about was the cross-examination, how she'd fought her ass off to get the defence attorney to play fair, only to end up having to be quiet rather than risk the judge sanctioning her. She tried, Dick gave her that, but there was only so much she could do.

Wally sighed. “Okay. You've got a point. We're in a fucked-up situation and totally at the mercy of the jury, but that doesn't mean it's going to end badly. Seriously, I've overheard people in the audience talking about it and they're horrified by what they're hearing. If the jury is made up of decent people like that, we'll get a conviction for sure.”

God, Wally was trying so hard. And Dick wasn't giving him anything to work with. He didn't know how to fix that, and the helplessness felt like a hand on his throat. He swallowed against it.

“I want to believe that,” he breathed. He also really wanted a hug, but he still felt too twitchy for that. He reached a hand out of the blankets. Wally caught on and laced their fingers together.

“I'll believe enough for the both of us. How's that?”

“It'll do.” It was the next best thing to actually believing it himself, which probably wasn't going to happen. He'd try. That was all he could do.

They lay there quietly for a while, until Dick felt more stable. He really did need to talk about what the defence attorney said during the trial, and Wally waited patiently for him to be ready for that.

“Sooo,” Wally said, after Dick had sat up and started folding up extra blankets he didn't need anymore, “Van Dorn fought pretty hard on that 'you invited the bad guys in' argument the defence attorney tried to cook up.”

“She did,” Dick replied, straightening the pile of blankets and getting started on the next fold. “We could just stick her in a costume and have her talk criminals into prison. It'd make our jobs easier. I'd certainly walk myself to jail if I had her directing all that at me.”

“Yeah. Shame she had to shut up before the judge could get her in trouble.”

Dick grunted in response. He was still angry about that.

“I feel like the judge wasn't doing enough to keep everything fair,” Wally said. “I get that he had to let our favourite asshole speak, but it just seemed really... I don't know. Bullshit.”

“Yeah.” Dick lost interest in the blanket he'd been folding and tossed it aside. “I could've stood to have heard less of him practically parroting what Luke told me right before he shoved his...” Dick decided not to finish the sentence. “You know, I just love people telling me I deserve get raped by men because I happen to like dudes. It's great. I feel great. I feel like standing on a mountain and singing about how great I feel.”

“That was so messed up. If I didn't have to worry about getting in trouble, I totally would've punched him in the face for you.”

“I totally would've punched him in the face for me, too.”

“We could take turns.”

“Nice. We could punch him again for trying to shift the age of consent goalposts. And for trying to claim rape doesn't apply to me because of the small age gap legal shit.”

“And for assuming we're sleeping together.”

“And for assuming a consensual relationship is totally the same thing as getting abducted and raped. We should make a list.”

Talking about it in a semi-humorous manner helped Dick get the words out, though he certainly couldn't get into this headspace every time he wanted to or had to talk about something awful. It worked for now, at least. And with Wally being carefully respectful of his space, he was pretty okay with being alone with him, despite the parallels the attorney had drawn yesterday between their relationship and what Luke had done.

Dick's phone buzzed with a text from Bruce: _“May I come up?”_

“Who's talking to you?” Wally asked.

“Bruce. He wants to come up.” Dick sent off a _yes_ to Bruce's question.

Bruce climbed onto the landing shortly thereafter. “You look better, Dick.”

“I feel better,” Dick replied. “Angry, but better.”

“Can you deal with the manor?”

Dick shrugged. “Probably. Why?”

“I just finished updating the manor's security features,” Bruce replied, tossing Dick a jacket. “I thought you'd like to see them.”

Dick knew exactly what Bruce was doing, and he was grateful for it. “All right,” he said, slipping on the jacket. He could use the morale boost.

“I'll get started on my homework in the living room,” said Wally. “Sitting room. Whatever.”

Dick followed Bruce down the ladder. They stopped at the batcomputer.

“The batcomputer is still the hub of all security alerts,” Bruce explained. “Any alerts are also relayed to all our vehicles, computers and phones. I've replaced all the locks and glass on all doors and windows upstairs and updated the perimeter motion sensors to prevent another failure. I'll show you the new glass and locks upstairs and then we'll take a look at the motion sensors outside.”

They headed up to the manor and into one of the spare bedrooms with a balcony separated from the room by a glass door. Bruce tapped the glass.

“Missile-proof,” he said. “And Wayne Enterprises just finished testing a new kind of lock that melts any foreign object inserted into it that doesn't fit the profile of its approved key.”

“What happens if somebody gets locked out of their house?”

“The door will not lock from the outside if a copy of the correct key is not detected,” Bruce replied. “The failsafe will not trigger if the door is locked from the inside.”

“This seems a little over-complicated, but okay.” It was probably the most secure solution. “How is it powered and could the power source be disconnected?”

“A small solar-powered battery is the primary source of electricity,” Bruce replied. He placed his fingers on the door handle. “Failing that, heat from the human hand is enough power to operate the system in the short term, but it's not yet reliable enough to be the sole source of energy.”

“What happens if the power fails?”

“The outside of the door locks and will not unlock until power is restored. The inside will operate as a normal door and can be used from that side. Power can be restored from either the inside or the outside.” Bruce inserted the key and turned the lock, which clicked and allowed the door to open. “This system isn't available on the market yet. The developers aren't satisfied they've covered all eventualities. But this system is effective for our purposes, and there are alternate ways into the house only known by the family if the system fails. The auto lock in the event of power failure works for security purposes, but is impractical for the average home. Fortunately, the manor is anything but average.”

“Okay, I'll take that. How about the motion sensors?” He felt pretty confident nobody was getting inside the manor itself without approval, especially when the locking system wasn't even available on the market yet.

Bruce took him outside to the large stone fence that ran around the property, deliberately avoiding the side Dick had been taken to the night of his abduction. They brought their computer gloves.

“The sensors run the length of the fence,” Bruce explained, bringing up a holographic screen above his glove. The layout of the sensors appeared on the screen, yellow against the blue of the building layout. “The primary source of power is hydroelectric, from the waterfall over the cliffs behind the property, with a number of redundant power supplies that switch on automatically if the one above it in the priority list is deactivated. There is another solar battery that's always ready to go, a pair of gasoline-powered generators—in case one of them breaks—and a collection of car batteries as an ultimate backup that should last a full night before recharging is required.”

“That's pretty thorough,” Dick commented.

“An activated sensor will trigger a current in wires set on either side and above the fence.” Bruce pointed out a thin strip of wire running close to the stone. “There are other points with electric wire on the grounds. They are all powered by a generator that activates immediately upon a sensor triggering. Alerts are sent to the locations I mentioned earlier, and the manor will go into lockdown if the sensors are not addressed for five minutes, or if all the power backups fail. Sheets of metal will cover all reasonable points of entry and exit, leaving the batcave entrances clear, unless the drawing room is breached by an unapproved guest, at which point the entrance behind the clock will also be covered by metal and plaster to blend into the wall.”

“I'd like to take a look at all the plans when we get back inside,” Dick said. “So I know where everything is and see if there are any potential weaknesses you missed.”

“It's all on the computer,” Bruce replied. “There are hard copies downstairs as well.”

They headed back to the manor, Dick feeling a little more secure about being here. It hadn't erased the anxiety entirely. Nothing ever did. But at least he knew it was an irrational feeling and had no real basis in fact. That would probably help him deal with it in the future.

“One more thing,” Bruce said as they descended into the batcave. “I noticed you're sleeping with a lot of blankets at the moment. Is that a temperature thing or a security thing?”

“Mostly security,” Dick replied. “I feel better with all that weight on me.”

“I ordered a weighted blanket last night for you to try. Do you think that would help?”

“Maybe. Thanks.”

Bruce's phone buzzed and he answered it. “Yes, Alfred? Okay. I'll ask him.” Bruce placed a hand over the speaker. “Dick, the district attorney called. She'd like to pay you a visit. Are you up to that?” Dick nodded. “Okay. Alfred, tell her yes. Let us know when she arrives.” He hung up.

“I'm surprised she found the time to come all the way out here,” Dick said.

“Our district attorney is a dedicated woman.” Bruce brought the manor's security plans up on the batcomputer screen. “She has to appear harsh to the public so criminals think twice about having to face her, but she does care about the innocents caught in the middle.”

Dick snorted. “I'm innocent now, am I?”

“Yes. You are.” The effect of Bruce's words was sort of ruined because he was staring intently at the screen instead of Dick.

Dick couldn't hold onto what little humour he'd managed to conjure up for this conversation. “I think that ship has sailed, Bruce.” Innocence, in every sense of the word, was a long-distant memory.

“You are _innocent_ of any wrongdoing in this situation, Dick,” Bruce replied.

“None of this would have happened if I hadn't started killing people.” If he'd just escaped without bloodshed, maybe Skinner wouldn’t have remembered him so vividly. Maybe Skinner wouldn't have been in the United States at all. But even as he thought those things, guilt smacked him in the guts. Someone, somewhere would still have suffered at that man's hands. If Dick hadn't killed his friends, there would be even more pedophiles out in the world. Thinking about it hurt his brain.

“Men like Skinner don't just stop hurting people,” Bruce said firmly. “He hurt children before you encountered him overseas, and he continued hurting them after you were gone. However you may feel about killing his associates, your involvement in this case has likely saved a lot of children from suffering.” Bruce closed the blueprint file, as it had become obvious neither of them were interested in it anymore. “You know how I feel about killing, but it would be unkind of me to condemn your decision to kill those men when you were clearly not in a fit state to be making decisions at all. Iman should not have allowed you to return with her. You needed therapy, not an outlet. You are not to blame for other people's actions, particularly Skinner's. He chose to base an operation in Gotham. He chose to hurt children. He chose to abduct you. Those decisions were his downfall.”

“He's not convicted yet,” Dick murmured. “Anything could happen between now and the jury's verdict.”

“The defence attorney got to you yesterday,” Bruce noted.

“Of course he did,” Dick muttered.

Alfred stepped from the stairs into the cave. “The district attorney has arrived, sirs. She is waiting in the sitting room with Master Wally.”

“That was quick,” Dick commented.

“I believe she was already on her way when she called,” said Alfred. Dick and Bruce followed him upstairs. They promptly reached the sitting room, where Van Dorn was sitting on the couch while Wally neatly stacked his schoolbooks into a pile on the coffee table.

“Thank you for coming all the way out here,” Bruce said, shaking her hand.

“It was no trouble,” said Van Dorn. “I wanted to discuss Richard's testimony yesterday.” Dick barely avoided flinching at the use of his legal name. “Given the circumstances, it seemed more prudent for me to come here than than to force Richard to brave the city.”

“Thanks.” Dick sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table. Wally and Bruce joined him, while Alfred, who had disappeared at some point, placed a tea tray on the table and poured out drinks for everyone.

“How do you feel about your testimony?” Van Dorn asked. “Before the defence had their turn.”

“I'm okay with it,” Dick replied. “I probably could've explained some things better, but I don't think it went too badly.”

“Good.” Van Dorn picked up her teacup but didn't drink. “You answered my questions calmly and methodically without seeming over-rehearsed. That will help the case.”

“I probably undid all of that in the cross-examination,” Dick said.

“The defence was out of line,” Van Dorn replied. “You shouldn't have talked back at him, but you also shouldn't have been put in that position in the first place. I will make that clear in my closing arguments.”

“I probably shouldn't have brought Wally.”

“Probably, but the defence could have made his point even without him there. Your relationship is hardly a secret.”

Dick shrugged. “Vicki Vale ambushed us ages ago, and being in the closet is exhausting.”

Van Dorn nearly cracked a smile, but didn't quite get there. “I can imagine. I will be sure to point out the defence's underhanded, victim-blaming tactics in my closing arguments as well. A reasonable jury should understand he behaved inappropriately. If not, we have more than enough facts to support your testimony.”

“Dick,” Wally said, “the case is solid.”

“Are you concerned?” Van Dorn asked.

Dick shrugged. “I guess I just don't have as much faith in the case as everyone else does. Especially after everything the defence got away with yesterday.”

“I will make sure the anti-corruption department of the police is on standby,” Van Dorn said. “The only way Mr Smith and his associates will not be found guilty is if somebody is on the take, and I will find out who that person is and deal with them as harshly as the law will allow. I would advise arranging an appointment with your therapist in the meantime.”

“I'll take care of it,” Bruce replied.

Van Dorn left shortly thereafter, with both Bruce and Alfred walking her to her car. Dick felt a touch better about the case. If somebody as experienced as Van Dorn thought the chances of conviction were high, that had to mean something, right? And she had contingencies in place in case it didn't happen.

Wally opened a textbook with a groan.

“You love chemistry,” Dick commented.

“Chemistry's like... cake.” Wally uncapped a highlighter and drew it across a line of text. “I love cake, but even cake gets old if that's the only thing you can eat. For hours. And hours. And you're not even hungry anymore because you're already full of cake, but the cake keeps coming and you have to eat it otherwise you'll fail the cake-eating class and break your GPA.” He turned the page. “Speaking of cake...”

“Yes?”

“Your birthday's in a couple weeks.” Wally put the lid on the highlighter and set the book aside already.

“Nice segue.”

“I know.” Wally flashed him a slightly tired grin. “The team wanted to throw a party, but they didn't know if you wanted one or not. So they asked me.”

“I don't know if I want one either,” Dick replied. Parties were exhausting.

“We could do a movie marathon at Mount Justice instead,” Wally suggested. “Just friends, snacks and a stack of DVDs. And you could leave whenever you wanted.”

“That sounds okay.”

“Bruce is planning something small as well, I think. We could invite Barbara and maybe Artemis here for that, if you want. No pressure.”

“Okay.” He hadn't seen Barbara in a while, partially because he hadn't felt up to it. It'd be nice to see her again. The court case would be over by then, for better or for worse, and maybe he'd finally be able to get on with his life.

“I'll talk to everyone,” Wally said. “You don't have to worry about a thing.”

Dick hesitated for a moment before planting a kiss on Wally's cheek. “Thanks. You're a lifesaver.”

“And don't I know it,” Wally said, just to be a smartass. Dick kissed his other cheek. Doing that felt good. Touching at all could be complicated after everything that had happened, but being able to do that felt like a step forward.

* * *

Dick didn't go to the rest of the trial until it came to the day for the attorneys to present their closing arguments and let the jury do their thing. Wally and Jason weren't able to get more time off school, so only Bruce and Alfred came with him. Despite the aggressive optimism of everyone around him, Dick couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

“Dick, the case is strong,” Bruce said to him as they took their seats in the audience. Bruce had outright refused to even entertain the idea that the jury could come back a not guilty verdict. It was a kind of obstinate optimism that really didn't suit him. Dick was all too aware that Bruce was putting on an act for his benefit. Bruce was always coming up with worst-case scenarios and contingency plans. He had countless files about his teammates on the Justice League dedicated to containing them should they turn rogue. There was no way in hell he hadn't come up with ideas of what to do if Skinner and his people walked.

“If you weren't worried, you wouldn't be saying that every few minutes just to make me feel better.”

“Master Bruce is just trying to help,” said Alfred. “However _clumsy_ his attempts may be.”

Dick cracked a small smile at that. Watching Alfred tell Bruce off in his uniquely underhanded manner was always entertaining, no matter how shitty Dick felt.

A message came through from Wally: _“Text me as soon as you know.”_

Dick sent back an affirmative message. He still wished Wally was here with him, but knowing the big dork was thinking about him would do for now.

The closing arguments were rather predictable. Van Dorn pointed out the use of intimidation, law-bending and outright victim-blaming the defence had used in a vain attempt to gain the upper hand in the case. The defence called the witnesses unreliable, due to youth, a desire to cover up their own misdeeds or potentially having been bribed by the witnesses in the former group, and the evidence inconclusive as to whether any rapes actually occurred.

Dick could see the truth in everyone's words now, as he watched the defence flounder to discredit everyone and everything with increasingly improbable stories that could never even be called fiction because fiction actually had to make sense most of the time.

The attorneys finished their spiels and the jury went away to come up with a verdict.

“Is it just me, or did the defence attorney look like he was reaching even further than usual?” Dick said quietly as he went out to grab coffee with Bruce and Alfred.

“He's panicking,” Bruce replied. They reached the line for the coffee machine. “He knows his case is falling apart.”

“Good. I hope he has a heart attack.”

“Shh.”

The coffee was disgusting, but Dick and Bruce drank it anyway while Alfred, who had been listening to other people complain about it, decided not to have any after all.

“I raised the two of you better than this,” he sniffed, watching them grit their teeth and bear it. Dick's first thought was that it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever had in his mouth, but he kept his mouth firmly shut and pushed that thought right to the back of his mind.

Everyone was called to return to the courtroom a mere ten minutes later as the jury had already reached a verdict, which could either be very good or very bad. They took their seats again. Dick's heart practically vibrated in his chest and he already regretted drinking that coffee.

“Coffee and stress.” He laughed quietly, but it was either that or scream. “Great mix.”

“Remind me to keep you away from the coffee machine,” Bruce said under his breath.

“Yeah, good luck.”

Alfred just sighed at them. No words were needed.

The jury filed in, taking their seats. Dick hadn't paid much attention to the jury the other time he'd been here. There weren't a lot of women up there, probably for some sexist reason like their supposed maternal instincts would render them incapable of seeing the case objectively with children involved. It was probably the defence's fault. Van Dorn wouldn't put up with that bullshit unless she had no choice in the matter.

The man chosen to read the verdict stood as the judge indicated for him to do so. He held a piece of paper in his hands. Bruce shifted a little beside Dick, further forward in his seat, back tense, partially shielding Dick from the defence attorney's line of sight. Alfred patted Dick's hand. They had discussed physical contact earlier that morning, with Dick agreeing to hand, arm and shoulder touches, but no gripping unless he instigated it.

The juror cleared his throat and straightened the paper. “The jury finds the defendants...”

Dick froze completely. Heart, breaths, eyes. Everything.

“Not guilty.”

“ _What_ ,” Bruce growled under his breath.

The courtroom was dead silent, as if dozen of people collectively held their breath. Seconds ticked by. Then:

“Very well,” said the judge.

Van Dorn leapt to her feet. “The prosecution requests the jury be polled.”

The judge asked each juror in turn whether they agreed to the verdict. The first few jurors said yes, their eyes set carefully above the audience, which weirded Dick out a little. One of the few women on the jury stuttered for a few seconds before also saying she agreed. Another juror sat with his mouth open for a moment, before taking a deep breath and saying the same. Dick noticed Van Dorn watching the jury closely, her frown deepening with each 'yes' spoken. Dick obviously wasn't the only one concerned by the jury's behaviour.

Each juror eventually said they agreed with the verdict and the judge ended the trial. Van Dorn snapped her files shut as if she wished she could toss them across the room. Bruce, Dick and Alfred didn't move until the defence was leaving.

The defence attorney leaned towards their bench. “No hard feelings, hey, kiddo? Just doing my job.”

“Piss off,” Dick snapped. Neither Bruce nor Alfred did anything to express their displeasure, and the attorney simply smirked and made his way out of the courtroom.

Van Dorn approached them next. “Something isn't right,” she said quietly. “Go home. I'll start investigating immediately.” She swept out of the room, her high heels clicking rapidly on the floor.

“Let's get out of here,” Bruce said, helping Dick up. Dick didn't particularly feel like moving. He let Bruce and Alfred steer him out of the room, out the back door and to the car.

He barely noticed anything on that journey home. Something ugly was building in his head. Something he had fought to push away ever since he'd agreed to put the Red Hood away for good.

He had tried the legal route. Van Dorn was good at her job, but there was a more reliable way to get bad people off the streets. People who did nothing but harm, who would happily go back to old habits if given half a chance. They had to be stopped, and the law had failed.

Dick texted Wally the jury's verdict when he got home, requesting Wally stay home for tonight. Bruce offered to stay home from patrol, but Dick refused, suggesting he take Jason out with him since the kid could afford to blow off some steam. Alfred offered to spend time in the cave with Dick, but Dick asked for some space. He needed it, but not solely for the reasons Alfred thought he did.

Dick knew where the cameras were in the cave, and he knew that a very brief disruption in their operation wouldn't be enough to freak anyone out. Bruce had a vault full of criminal memorabilia he didn't want to display, unlike the giant penny and the dinosaur which were too cool to keep in a box somewhere. Bruce didn't like throwing things out, so he held onto whatever he could, placing the more dangerous things in his vault.

Dangerous things like weapons and the occasional criminal's costume.

It wasn't too hard to loop old footage of the vault. Nobody was supposed to be down here, so Dick didn't have to worry too much about what footage he used provided he avoided big arrest dates.

Bruce occasionally changed the password, but it tended to stay the same for months if not years. Dick had heard him use the most recent one a few weeks ago. It was _trapeze_. He'd probably changed it after Dick had died and never gotten around to using something else. It wasn't hard to comb through old footage and find audio of Bruce using the word, since his voiceprint was the only thing that could open the door.

Dick played the audio and the great metal door of the vault slid open with barely a sound. He slipped inside. The crates within were usually ordered by the first arrest date of each villain who had a box here. Dick went straight to April 2011, to the most recently-added box: the Red Hood.

His guns and costume were there. There were no bullets, for obvious reasons, but Dick could always pinch some from a gun store and leave some money on the counter. He'd have to pick one with weak security, but that wouldn't be too difficult. He already knew where some were after having to supply himself as the Red Hood months ago.

He quickly grabbed his gear and shoved it into a duffel bag. He had to get out of here quickly, before Alfred decided to check on him or Wally got worried and showed up or Bruce and Jason decided to come home early. Anything was possible.

Dick downloaded the addresses of Skinner and his associates and quickly jumped on his bike. If Bruce didn't know something was up, he soon would. Dick planned to ditch the bike in a quiet part of the city and proceed on foot. He had his Nightwing equipment, so that wouldn't be an issue.

Dick felt that familiar sensation of guilt sitting heavy in his gut as he sped out of the batcave. He knew Bruce would never forgive him for this, that Jason would be upset, Alfred heartbroken, Wally... shit. He didn't know how Wally would react, honestly. Probably a mix of all three.

But he had to do this. He couldn't rely on the legal system to fix this fuck-up.

If the courts wouldn't get these people off the street, then it fell to Dick to do it. The departed and damaged souls of dozens of children demanded justice— _Dick_ needed justice—and dozens of living children needed his protection.

Forcing the guilt away, Dick narrowed his focus to the job. He would deal with the consequences when they came.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 28/05/2015: Forgot to mention I'm in the middle of show week for my school. It's a miracle I got this chapter out at all, and I pushed it a bit longer than I may have otherwise because I don't know when I'll be able to get another chapter written.


	26. Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick takes to the city to right the legal system's mistakes, while the others rush to stop him from committing an even bigger one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts, thoughts of self-harm, self-imposed victim-blaming and both the incompleted sexual assault of a minor and recollections of previous incidents.

Bruce was frantic, rushing from place-to-place in the batcave, slamming buttons on the computer whenever he passed it, racing to someplace out of sight Jason said they weren't allowed to go. Wally had long given up on trying to help him with whatever he was doing. He and Jason had suited up to start canvassing the city for Dick, but they weren't about to go without Bruce's approval.

All Wally really knew was that Dick's bike was gone and had been ditched in the city, which presumably meant he had left the cave voluntarily. Wally hadn't heard from him since receiving his worryingly matter-of-fact message about the trial that requested he stay home. Wally hadn't wanted to disrespect Dick's boundaries at such a stressful time, but he was starting to think he should've called at the very least.

If Dick was doing what Wally thought he was doing...

Bruce stormed back into the main chamber from where he'd disappeared to. “The Red Hood's uniform is missing.”

“Shit,” Wally muttered. His fears were realised.

Bruce charged over to the computer again. “He accessed files on all the defendants without triggering an alert in the system. He has their addresses.”

“Let me help,” Wally said. “I can cover more ground on foot than you can. And I've talked him down before.”

Bruce spun around in the chair, fixing him with a heavy gaze. “Are you prepared to take him down if he won't yield?”

The thought was sickening, but Wally knew Bruce was just covering all his bases. “If I have to. But I'm hoping it won't come to that.”

Bruce pressed a button on the keyboard and the screen on Wally's costume lit up. “You have the addresses. Don't be seen. Don't let Dick be seen. I will take the batmobile into the city and monitor the police scanner and your communicator. Jason, stay here and do the same.”

Alfred descended the steps from the manor. “Master Wally, I have prepared some snacks to maintain your energy levels.” He passed a few small wrapped items that fit easily into Wally's storage compartments on his gloves.

“How did Dick get past the vault security?” Jason asked.

“He looped old security footage and found a recording of my voice to open the door.” Bruce growled, surged to his feet and stormed towards the batmobile. “He shouldn't have been able to do it. My security is more sophisticated than that.”

“A lot of that's been going around lately,” Jason muttered.

“This is Dick we're talking about,” said Wally. “He's been training to break into things since he was a kid. And he's obviously desperate.”

“I can hardly blame him,” Jason said quietly. Only Wally heard him.

Bruce was in full-Batman mode, firing up the batmobile. Wally pulled on his cowl and sped out of the batcave.

He only hoped he'd find Dick before he did something terrible.

* * *

Dick was hidden behind a brick chimney, on a roof that overlooked Skinner's expensive apartment. He wasn't sure where all the money had come from, but the man was obviously wealthy enough to afford a particularly expensive defence attorney, a high-end apartment and all the expenses that came with operating a child sex trafficking operation. The apartment kept up his identity's appearance as a well-off teacher at the top private school in the city. The man's gall at daring to work with children during the day made Dick's entire body burn.

As angry as he was, though, he wasn't sure starting with Skinner was the best option. He was the centre of the operation but there was a chance his death would result in the others going underground if he didn't act quickly or stealthily enough. The sniper rifle Dick held in his trembling hands was not a good option. Skinner was the tie to everything. It would be satisfying to take him out first, but if Dick didn't successfully take out the others before they went into hiding, it would be close to impossible to find them again without using Skinner's position in the centre of the net.

The tiniest thoughts filtered from the back of his mind. Guilt at betraying everything Bruce believed in. Guilt at not trusting Van Dorn. But he pushed them away. He wasn't doing this for the warm and fuzzies. He was doing it because it had to be done.

“Having second thoughts?”

Fuck. Dick had been distracted and hadn't noticed Wally's—Kid Flash's—approach. That was inexcusable.

“Not really,” Dick replied calmly, ignoring the drumming of his heart. “Just considering whether I should start here or somewhere else.”

Wally rested his back against the half of the chimney Dick wasn't using. His uniform was in stealth mode, for obvious reasons. He'd forgotten his goggles. Dick was grateful for his helmet; he couldn't let Wally know how shaken he was.

“Pros and cons?”

Huh. Wally was playing along. For now.

“Taking Skinner out first would cause confusion among the others,” Dick answered. “It'll take them time to choose a new leader, and the chaos could be good for any potential victims.”

“And cons?”

“It could also drive the others underground before I can find them. Without having access to Skinner, finding them could be difficult, if not impossible. The people left behind could also take it out on any children already in their custody.”

“I love no-win situations,” Wally said with a bucketload of false cheer. “A lot of those going around lately. Like trying to decide whether to trust the experienced district attorney investigating a certain jury's verdict, or taking the law into your own hands and falling back into old, very destructive habits.”

“Bruce told you Van Dorn's looking into it,” Dick assumed. “She's good at her job, but these people have connections we obviously don't know about yet. Every second wasted on a lawyer's investigation could cost lives.”

“So you don't trust Van Dorn to do her job.”

“Not enough that I'd be willing to put children on the line. Or myself. I can't sleep until they're dealt with, and undoubtedly neither can the others. If they haven't been re-abducted or killed already.”

Dick's finger itched to pull that trigger. But a sniper shot wouldn't go unnoticed. If he was going to take Skinner out first, he'd have to get into the apartment and kill him up close and personal. Probably a chokehold. He couldn't risk making a mess. If he kept it clean and quiet, he could hide the body and buy himself some time before the others found out.

Wally pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing. “Okay, look. You've got a point. But are you sure this is the best way to stop Skinner and the others from hurting people? Couldn't we, you know, just keep an eye on them?”

“And risk someone slipping through the cracks? No. I'm doing what needs to be done.” As he said that, he disassembled the rifle and put it back in its case, then strapped it onto his back. He wouldn't be using it here. With Wally present, he couldn't get into the house and kill Skinner before being stopped. He'd have to escape and go after someone else.

“Dick. This isn't necessary.”

“Someone needs to protect the kids caught up in this, Wally. I've failed them too many times to just walk away.” Dick, activated a sealing system in his helmet, pushed off the chimney and stepped into Wally's personal space, slowly pulling a low-grade tear gas smoke pellet from his pocket. “I know you're trying to stop me from going back into the place I was when I first came back to Gotham. I appreciate what you're trying to do, okay? But this is more important than I am. And you. I'm sorry.” Dick threw the pellet to the ground and darted away.

As hoped, the spiked smoke hit Wally's system immediately, reducing him to a coughing mess. Dick shot a line to the next rooftop and legged it before he had a chance to recover.

He had already planned the next destination: Brian White. Another apartment, this time with a huge, bold window that encapsulated the entire outside wall. The curtains were open. Careless.

This time, Dick didn't bother worrying about infiltration. He found a good perch on the edge of the building—the lights here were out so he didn't have to worry about being seen—and assembled his rifle again. He lay down on his stomach and found Brian in the scope.

He was in his bedroom, wearing nothing but boxers. Dick felt nausea build in his throat and stubbornly swallowed it down.

“Shit, babe.” Wally had already caught up with him. “That was nasty.”

“That was the low-grade version,” Dick replied, still watching through the scope. “Bruce doesn't like hurting civilians, but if crowd control has to be done, it's good to have options.”

A girl no older than twelve came into view. She was shivering, in a bra and panties. Dick's trigger finger twitched and there was acid climbing up his throat. Brian dragged her over to him and sat on the bed. The girl was in the way of Dick's shot.

“Damn it. Damn. It.”

“I can get Batman,” said Wally. “He'll help her and then call the police.”

“So he can walk again and hurt someone else?” Dick snapped. Fuck. He didn't know if he could shoot straight even if she wasn't in the way.

“No, so the police know what's happening. I'm calling him.”

“ _Wally_.”

Wally pressed the communicator in his cowl. “Hey, Batman. You know Brian White's address? You need to get in there right now because he's about to assault another kid. No, no, I've got him. It's fine.”

The batmobile was pulling up to the curb in no time. Dick gritted his teeth. Brian was touching her, pulling at what little clothing she had. If the girl moved out of the way, he could still get a shot before Batman got there. He could do it. He could—

“Dick. Put down the gun. Batman's got this.”

Batman shot a line up to the window and then used a small explosive to break through. He pulled the girl away in the confusion and punched Brian out.

Dick's breaths shuddered through his teeth. He set down the gun and sat up onto his knees. The helmet was suffocating him. He tore it off and slammed it onto the concrete.

“I should—I should've—”

“No, Dick.” Wally knelt beside him. “You did the right thing.”

It didn't feel like the right thing. But he still had gas pellets. He could escape again, take out somebody else. Someone. Anyone. He gripped the rifle as it sat on the roof, but the cold metal didn't give him any comfort.

“I'm not gonna fall for that tear gas trick again,” Wally said, as he could read Dick's mind. “I'm taking you home, okay? You need to think this through and stop just acting on the pain you're feeling.”

“Don't tell me what I need,” Dick snapped. “Or what I'm feeling. You have no fucking idea.”

“You're right. I don't. But right now, I get the feeling you barely have a handle on it yourself.” Wally laid his hand over Dick's, lifting it from the gun and squeezing tightly. “You didn't even get this far when the Joker got out. You took the time to talk it out, to try and understand where the feelings were coming from. Lives were on the line then, too. Lives are always on the line when the Joker's involved. I understand you'd had some time to deal with what he did to you, and that the trauma here is fresh, but that's exactly why you need to come home and deal with it. Trust us to keep Skinner and the others in line while Van Dorn and Batman investigate.”

Dick gripped Wally's hand as tightly as he could. He couldn't do that. He couldn't sit at home while other people took risks for him, while children were in danger. He had failed to get them all out alive once already; he couldn't let the rest of them down.

His stomach and chest were seizing up. The air felt thinner than it had a moment ago.

“It's all right,” Wally said gently. “We'll take care of everything. I promise.” He settled Dick's head on his chest, and the rest of Dick's body melted until Wally was taking nearly all his weight. “We'll get you home so you can rest and, if you're up to it, we'll bring Dinah in tomorrow. If you're not ready, you can just rest for tomorrow as well. Whatever you need.”

Batman joined them once the police had arrived. He silently disassembled the rifle and put it away. Together, he and Wally got Dick into the batmobile, hidden around the corner. Wally squeezed into the car with them, and Batman drove back home.

* * *

Bruce didn't say a word to Dick for the rest of the night. Wally, Alfred and Jason brought him upstairs to his guest room while Bruce stayed in the batcave. Wally stayed with him for the night. Dick didn't sleep, and neither did he.

Come morning, Dick drank three cups of black coffee, despite Alfred's obvious disapproval, and choked down a piece of toast. He could feel it sitting in his throat, ready to come back when the time was right. Wally hovered close to him for most of the morning and Dick was forbidden from entering the batcave. Bruce still hadn't spoken to him, not that Dick really expected him to.

Dinah came around noon. With the batcave off-limits and Bruce unwilling to let Dick too far out of his sight, they ended up in a disused sitting room in the manor. Dick paced along the outside wall, sneaking glances out the window as he passed. The window had been fitted with the missile-proof glass with the rest of the windows in the manor, but it was still discomforting.

“Bruce and Wally told me what happened,” Dinah said. She was seated calmly on a newly-dusted armchair. A teaset sat on the coffee table. Alfred had poured two cups of tea, neither of which had been touched since.

“I shouldn't have wasted so much time deciding where to start,” Dick said, tugging the window curtains shut.

“You wouldn't have been able to kill all your targets before Wally caught up with you,” Dinah replied.

“Then I should've gone into hiding when I escaped from him. He expected me to go after someone else.”

“If you'd done that, you wouldn't have saved that girl,” Dinah pointed out. “Your reasons for going out last night aside, you did stop something terrible from happening.”

Dick couldn't argue with that, but it wasn't exactly the point. “She shouldn't have been in that position in the first place.”

“I know. But you did the right thing and let Batman save her.”

“I didn't have a choice,” Dick snapped. “She was in the way of my shot. What sort of bastard would I be if I'd shot anyway?”

“Judging from Wally's recounting of your conversations last night, it seems to me that your main motivation for putting on the Red Hood costume again was to protect the other children,” Dinah surmised. Correctly.

“The police can't do much to protect them if the people they need protection from aren't even considered criminals,” Dick replied irritably. “I don't know if catching Brian White in the act will be enough to get them off their asses. The only sure way to protect the others is if I go straight to the source and destroy it.”

Dinah wrote something on her notepad. “I can see a pattern emerging. You weren't particularly excited about testifying at the trial, yet you forced yourself to do it. Why?”

“The prosecution thought I had the best chance of being taken seriously as a witness, aside from Lex Luthor,” Dick replied. “But Luthor is an amoral opportunist, and everyone knows it. So it was important to have a humanising element to the case, but most of the other kids weren't up to answering questions.”

“So you stepped up,” said Dinah. “Did you do this for yourself? For the children?”

“Both,” Dick admitted. “I know I can't start trying to put this behind me until the people who put me in this position are out of the picture, either dead or behind bars. I don't care which. I don't doubt the other victims feel the same way. And I can't stomach the thought of any more children being victimised by those men. I can't let them hurt anyone else while Van Dorn does things the legal way. It'll take too long. It's _already_ taking too long. Anything that doesn't have an immediate result in getting these men off the street is not acceptable. Every second we waste behind desks and writing letters or whatever the hell happens in a corruption investigation is another second that puts children in danger. They've been through enough. _I've_ been through enough. And I've failed to protect them far too many times already.”

“And there's the heart of it,” Dinah said, scribbling down another note. “Guilt. That's what this has been about since before the beginning of the trial.”

Dinah's words were a knife in the guts, but they weren't wrong. There were so many dead. So many left broken. Because Dick couldn't help them.

“Dick.” Dinah set her notepad aside. “You know nobody blames you for what happened. You did more than any of us could have expected.”

“I blame me,” Dick replied, through a suddenly constricted throat. “There were times when I could've stepped in, but I didn't. Because I didn't think it'd make a difference. Because I was afraid they'd turn their wrath on me next.” He slumped against the curtain, knocking his head against the glass behind it. “I could've saved Brandon. And Bethany might've survived her illness if she hadn't just seen her brother beaten to death in front of her. If I hadn't tried to kill myself when I did, Lex Luthor would've been able to talk to me sooner and I could've told him to have the police get us all out and maybe then those children who died in that explosion would still be alive and I wouldn't be the only person capable of testifying to the degree needed in that trial because Amber would've been there and she was so much more put-together than I am and there's no way they could've shaken her on that witness stand no matter how hard they tried but no she's fucking _dead_ and I don't... I don't...” Dick couldn't find words anymore. He punched the wall. And then again. And again and again and again, knuckles screaming, and he screamed too, until he couldn't find the air anymore.

“Dick. Take a breath.”

His knuckles were bleeding. His breaths snagged in his throat.

Dinah appeared at his side, pressing a napkin against the back of his hand. “Come sit down.” He steered him over to the couch. “May I call Alfred? He should take a look at your hand.”

He couldn't respond. There was nothing left of him. Dinah just sat with him for a while, holding the napkin in place. Dick slowly regained awareness of himself. His knuckles stung. His chest ached. His eyes felt like sandpaper. His mouth was cotton.

He swallowed. “I failed them.”

“It wasn't your job to save them, Dick,” Dinah said gently. “That you saved anyone at all in such a horrific situation is remarkable. There are dozens of children who owe you their lives. I know you wanted to save everyone, and it's going to take time for you to come to terms with what happened, but you were incredible.”

“I shouldn't have testified.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Dinah insisted. “The trial failed because the defendants bribed and threatened the right people. Corruption destroyed that trial, not you. It is not up to you to fix the mess they created. Bruce will go out every night to investigate the jury and make sure the defendants stay in line while Van Dorn gets things done from her end. _You_ need to stay safe, be kind to yourself and heal as much as you can.”

That wasn't going to happen. Dick was rarely kind to himself. He rarely felt safe. And he sure as hell couldn't heal while Skinner and his associates were walking free. Skinner was still teaching at Gotham Academy and Bruce was reaching the end of the latitude the school usually offered him as an important patron, and had elected to use it to keep Dick out of school for the time being. It was unlikely that would last for much longer.

“None of those are really on the table right now,” Dick finally said in response to Dinah's advice.

“All right. Let's see what we can do in the meantime.” Dinah checked under the napkin. “The bleeding seems to have stopped. Let's take care of this first, then we can talk about that.”

Dinah cleaned and dressed Dick's busted knuckles herself. He hadn't broken anything, by some miracle, but the abrasions stung like a motherfucker when they came in contact with the cleaning solution.

They didn't get very far with the subsequent discussion before Dick lost what little focus he'd managed to scrounge up. The first thing Dinah had brought up was Dick's troubles with food, and even talking about it was sickening and draining. Dinah ended the session shortly thereafter, having talked with him long enough to establish Bruce was keeping him out of the batcave for obvious reasons, but the batcave was also the only place Dick felt anywhere close to safe in this place. Dinah left to discuss that with Bruce, right after walking Dick to Wally's mound of homework in the sitting room.

“Hey, babe.” Wally smiled tiredly up at him. He'd managed to get pen lines on his face. “Don't mind the chaos. Just shove those books aside. I'm done with them anyway.”

Dick moved the books to the floor, right beside the coffee table, and sat in the freed spot on the couch. “You've been attacked my the ink monster.”

Wally wiped his face, which didn't do much to remove the pen. “I drew on myself again, didn't I?”

“I think you need sleep.”

“Pff. Who sleeps these days?”

“You're asking the wrong person, Wally.”

Wally flipped his books shut, threw his pen down and fell bonelessly against the couch cushions with a long groan. “I wanna sleep. Do you wanna sleep?”

“God, yes.” Dick wanted to sleep for a decade. If he could sleep in this house at all after losing his shit in front of Dinah today.

He helped Wally carry his mountain of books with them to Dick's room. Wally barely ever slept in his own room anyway, except when Dick specifically asked for space. And Dick often ended up asking him to come back halfway through the night.

The pair were already dressed down enough—sweatpants, t-shirts and sweaters—for sleep, so undressing was a non-issue. Dick honestly didn't know how he would've coped with that today, even though he knew Wally would be more than willing to leave the room to give him privacy. It was just not a good day for much of anything.

Wally fluffed up his pillow as Dick climbed under the covers. “Did you want to talk about anything? Or should we save that for later?”

Dick pulled the covers over his shoulders and curled up beneath them. “I freaked out and punched a wall.”

“Oh. Right. Hand. I swear I was going to ask, but then I forgot. I'm tired. And my brain hurts.”

“You're forgiven.” Dick found listening to Wally's rambling quite relaxing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don't know. Talking about it all the first time took a lot out of me.”

“Okay.” Wally finally got under the covers himself. “Do you feel up to cuddles? I've been told my cuddles are magic.”

“I told you that, Wally. Years ago. When I was recovering from Joker toxin and you barged into the batcave insisting I get some Wally-approved cuddle time. Bruce teased me about it for _weeks_. And the more I think about it, the more I think he knew I liked you before _I_ knew I liked you. And now that memory has about a dozen new layers of mortification. So thanks for bringing it up.”

“I'll treasure that memory forever. And I'm totally going to ask Bruce about it when things have died down a bit because I can't imagine that man teasing anyone. And about a crush you didn't know you had, no less.”

Dick snorted. It felt good.

“Can't say I'm surprised, though,” Wally continued. “Everybody loves me.”

“Oh, Wally.” Dick could feel the giggles coming on, which felt really weird considering the heaviness of the day. “Thank God you're pretty.”

“Thank you. I am very pretty.”

Dick flopped down on top of Wally, mostly to shut up him but also because he damn well wanted to. “Uh-huh. Sleep now.”

Wally's arms folded around him. “Yes, sir.”

* * *

The nightmares ensured neither Dick nor Wally got to sleep for long. Dick had torn up his pillow before he was fully awake, while Wally tried to divide his time between calming him down and rescuing the remaining pillows.

By the time Dick regained some semblance of awareness, he'd managed to scatter the feathers across the room. A few ended up in his mouth, and he spat them out. Wally had one in his hair.

Dick grabbed a fistful of feathers. His fingernails bit into his palm, but he could barely feel it through the fog in his brain. And to think it was only last night when things had seemed so clear...

Wally started brushing the feathers into the tattered remains of the pillowcase. “It's all right. I'll deal with it.”

Dick dropped his feathers into the pillowcase. Thinking was hard. So was moving. His arm fell limp to his side and he watched in silence as Wally gathered up the mess and dropped it into the empty wastepaper basket to dispose of later.

Dick shouldn't have taken that nap. He felt worse now than he had before.

Wally sat in the centre of the bed next to Dick, who was staring at the spot the pillow had been. “Hey. You look drained. Do you feel up to talking?”

Dick shook his head. He'd be okay with never talking or moving or doing anything ever again.

“Okay. That's okay. I saved some pillows. Did you want to lie back down?”

Dick shook his head. Not here.

“How about somewhere else?”

Dick shrugged. Maybe.

“My room?”

Dick shrugged a maybe again.

“Or I could try talking to Bruce and convince him to let us in your room in the batcave? If you feel up to climbing the ladder.”

That sounded better, actually, so Dick nodded. He'd deal with the moving thing somehow.

“Okay. I'll call Alfred. He's got way more pull with the big guy than I do.”

Dick let him do that. Focusing on every word of the ensuing conversation was too much for him, so he zoned out a bit, until Wally said his name probably several times but he only noticed the last three or so.

As soon as he had Dick's attention, Wally said, “Bruce wants to talk to you first. Are you--?”

Dick shook his head. Absolutely not. Wally was more than enough for him.

“Okay, that's a no,” Wally said into his phone. “He's not up to it right now. Maybe later, but I'm not promising anything. He's completely non-verbal, so we're down to yes or no questions anyway. Yeah, yeah, I'll keep an eye on him. I always do. Yes, I'm positive. He's not a threat to anyone. I just want to get him somewhere he feels safe, and that's not the manor. Okay. Good. No, we can get down there ourselves. I don't think being near him is a good idea until he's feeling better. Yes. Okay. Bye.” Wally hung up. It was only after the conversation was finished that Dick registered Alfred must've handed the phone over to Bruce at some point, rather than just relaying requests second-hand.

Wally helped Dick into his shoes and then led him gently through the manor and the drawing room, down into the batcave. What little energy Dick had collected was almost depleted by the time they reached the ladder.

Wally noticed Dick's hesitation. “We could rest down here for a bit if you want.”

Dick didn't want to, but he honestly didn't have the strength to climb the ladder yet. Wally dashed off and brought back a pair of folding chairs. They sat there for a while, shivering a little in the cold. Dick's hands shook, having nothing to do with the temperature.

Wally reached out. “May I?”

Dick nodded. Wally covered Dick's hands with his. The shaking subsided over time, and Dick eventually felt well enough to climb the ladder.

They parted a set of newly-added black curtains to find a rectangular packet lying on the mattress. Wally picked it up.

“A weighted blanket?”

“Oh,” Dick said, and took it from Wally's hands, skimming the label for a moment before speaking again. “Bruce ordered it for me. He thought it'd work like the blanket-piling and help me feel more secure. I think this is one of the lighter varieties, so I might still have to...” He noticed Wally watching him with way more warmth than a discussion about blankets really warranted. “...Yes?”

“Nothing. You're talking again, is all.”

“Don't get excited. I don't feel like keeping it up.” Dick opened the packet and pulled out the blanket. It was soft, kind of squishy in a pleasant way.

“That's okay. The _yes, no, maybe_ system we had going on before worked pretty well.”

Dick laid the blanket over the mattress. It was thicker than a normal blanket and obviously much heavier, but he still felt like he'd need more than one blanket to feel properly secure.

“Maybe try it by itself first?” Wally suggested. “I can stick more blankets on you if it's not enough.”

They experimented for a bit, before finally settling on just two particularly heavy additional blankets, which Dick could always remove if he got too hot or smothered. With that settled, Dick curled up under the blankets while Wally brought his homework over in three super-speed trips and picked up where he'd left off.

The new curtains blocked out most of the ambient noise from the cave, so for a while the only sounds were the scratching of the pen, the shuffling of papers and the occasional curse word from Wally.

Alfred brought up a small amount of food every so often. Shortly after dinnertime, Bruce showed up. Dick still wasn't really prepared to see him after what had almost happened the previous night.

“I told you Dick wasn't up to talking,” Wally said irritably.

“I can't leave for patrol until we've addressed the situation,” Bruce replied.

“He's not going to run off with me here,” Wally pointed out. “He was only able to get out last night because nobody was down here with him.”

Dick could see Bruce wasn't going to back down, though, so he touched Wally's arm. “It's okay, Wally. If he wants to talk, we can talk.” His voice was a little hoarse from disuse.

“Dinah doesn't believe you'll try again,” Bruce said. “Not immediately. She has some long-term concerns if the district attorney can't find enough evidence to reopen the investigation. I've made allowances in the past because you didn't have access to the support you needed, and you were willing to stop killing once you received it.”

“ _Bruce_ ,” Wally warned. “This is not the time.”

“I didn't know about a large group of children in danger from a bunch of men the legal system let walk free back then,” Dick said.

“It's not our place to be--”

“--judge, jury and executioner,” Dick finished. “I know. But can you promise me no children will be harmed while Van Dorn does her job?”

“You know I can't promise that.”

“That's not good enough. If you can't protect them, I will.” Dick's insides were shredded and, God, he was tired. But he would do what he had to do, even if it destroyed him in the process.

“Dick, if you leave this house to try again, I will turn you over to the authorities,” Bruce said. “Even if you escape from me, you will no longer be welcome here, and I will hunt you down.”

Dick had been separated from his family before. It had ached, like a scar that could never heal properly. There had been something hollow in him that could only be filled by the people he loved. He hadn't known exactly what was missing at the time—he'd thought the Joker had taken something away when he murdered Robin—and coming back here into the love and the connection had made him realise how much he missed everyone. He didn't know if he could take that again. But his own needs were secondary now. Maybe he was never meant to be whole. Maybe that was just how it had to be.

“Bruce, enough,” Wally snapped. “Don't you have people to protect? The same people Dick's seriously considering ruining his life over?”

“I don't want him going anywhere alone. I'll know.” Bruce stepped back through the curtain, leaving them alone again.

Dick pressed his hands over his face. What if he couldn't take all of them out? What if Van Dorn got the case reopened with only half the defendants still alive? What if Dick ended up in the same prison as them? What if--

“Babe.” Warm fingers encircled Dick's wrists. “He shouldn't have dumped that on you.”

“I want to betray everything he believes in,” Dick murmured through his fingers. “He had every right to be that harsh.”

“You don't have to do it,” Wally said. “You don't have to destroy yourself over this. They're terrible people, yeah, but they're not worth it.”

“It's not just about them,” Dick muttered. “It's about their victims, too. I can stop Skinner and his people from hurting anyone else.”

“Babe, you've done a lot already.” Wally squeezed gently, just enough to keep Dick grounded in the here and now. “And I know you'll do even more when there's a retrial.”

“It's not enough. It's never...” He thought about what he'd said to Dinah earlier. All the children he couldn't save. The guilt was almost tangible, eating him up from the inside. He didn't know how to make it stop, but the beast had quieted for a while when he was out there, preparing his plans to take out Skinner without alerting anyone. When he'd held that sniper rifle in his hands, up until the point where he had to give in and let Batman take over, lest he risk that girl's life.

“It hurts you that you couldn't save everyone, doesn't it?” Wally said softly. Everything inside Dick _ached_. He had failed so many, and every moment he wasn't protecting them was yet another failure. He couldn't even take care of himself, let alone the dozens of children who needed him.

“I should've done more. I _could've_ done more. If I hadn't been so scared, or if I hadn't thought it wouldn't make a difference.” He'd covered all this with Dinah already.

“You had to make tough calls,” Wally said. “I get that. I heard your testimony, remember? You were in a bad situation. You did what you could. Everything else was up to the people around you. Imagine if Luke hadn't lied to us when we came to get you that first time? Imagine if one of the clients before Luthor had grown a conscience? Imagine if Skinner had fallen to pieces when Batman interrogated him? There are so many different factors here. You were only one piece of an entire puzzle of... well, I've lost the metaphor but you get my meaning, right? I know you don't like things being out of your control any more than Bruce does, but that's the truth. You're being way too hard on yourself. You did the best you could with what you had. You don't need to throw your life away to fix things that weren't even your fault.”

Dick wasn't sure he could accept that. Skinner had tried so hard to take control of his life away from him. Why couldn't he take some of that back? He wasn't just some kid thrown into the deep end with no idea how to survive tough situations. He was trained. He should've been able to take control of the situation, but he hadn't. He couldn't even retain control over his own body; Skinner and Luke and Brian Harris and dozens upon dozens of staff and clients had seen to that.

Dick pulled out of Wally's grip. “I can't do that. I can't. I just...” He surged to his feet, Wally zipping out of the way. “I can't just give up like that. I need... I've had no control over _anything_ for so long and I'm not going back to that. I'm not. They did everything they could to turn me into a _thing_ , a _possession_ , something with no agency or control or even a mind of my own and I'm not going to let them do that to me _ever again_.”

“Dick. Sweetheart. Listen.” Wally remained a respectful distance away, raising his hands placatingly. “I'm not asking you to do that. Just... think, okay? You told me about how you first started killing. Because Skinner and the others had you trapped. You killed to escape. And you went back with Iman to kill more of them. You were thirteen. You'd never killed before. And now you're going back into that place, because of the same person. I mean, there's no guarantee you would've become the Red Hood or killed anyone at all if they hadn't done what they did to you. And they've done something similar this time, and you're putting the Red Hood back on again. Because of them.”

“Because children are at risk,” Dick shot back. But the words were bruising, despite his protestations.

“Bruce can protect them,” Wally replied. “He's Batman. He's completely invested in protecting them, not only because they need protection, but because it means so much to you. He's got it covered, okay? You don't have to let Skinner and the others push you back into that place.”

“Then what do I do?” Dick hadn't meant the words to come out so quietly, but breathing was getting difficult. “I don't _have_ anything else. Do I just sit at home, terrified of every sound? Do I just bury myself in these fucking blankets and try to make the nightmares go away? Do I try to choke down food, day in and day out, when I barely look at a piece of bread without wanting to vomit? Wally, I am _nothing_ here. Nothing but a fucking shell of a human being who can't even cope with taking a goddamn _shower_. All I have is my anger. That's the only thing that stops me from falling to pieces. Or cutting my fucking veins open and just letting my heart beat itself to death.”

“We'll help you find yourself again,” Wally promised. “I'm here. Alfred's here. Jason's here. Bruce. Dinah. The team. Anyone you want, you can have. We all care about you. We all want you to heal.”

“I can't heal,” Dick choked out. The aches inside him were becoming intolerable. He wanted to claw himself open and rip out all his organs until they stopped hurting. “If I can't go out and stop the others from getting hurt, I can't do anything.”

“That's not true,” Wally said gently. “You don't need to try and heal yourself before you're ready, but there are people who love you who can be here for you until you are. And we'll still be here when you're healing, and after. We'll get that retrial, and we'll get those bastards the jail time they deserve. You don't have to let them turn you into a killer again.”

Dick didn't know what to do anymore. The memories were pressing hard against the little box in his brain he tried to keep them in, and his insides still ached. Even if he wanted to go out and take Skinner and his people down, he didn't have the strength anymore.

Wally caught him when he collapsed, and set him down gently on the bed. Dick burrowed into him, squeezing tight. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt. Existing hurt.

He was weak. He was nothing.


	27. Attendance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotham Academy starts cracking down on attendance in the wake of the trial's verdict.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: sexual assault of a minor, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self-harm, victim-blaming, gaslighting (in short, that means behaving as if another person's experiences aren't real, often to the point of making the victim doubt their own memories or sanity).
> 
> In case anyone's forgotten, Kevin Scott was one of the men who assaulted Dick back when he was thirteen. Dick didn't encounter him directly during his captivity this time around.
> 
> This chapter got long as hell. I probably could've cut it shorter but I think I've done another cliff-hangers for the time being. I'll probably eat my words in a few chapters, though. Who knows?

Dick didn't talk much for days after his breakdown. Talking inevitably led to arguing, which took up far more energy than he had to give. Bruce eventually softened up when it became clear Dick wasn't about to put on the Red Hood again. At least, not right away. Dick didn't feel up to making any long-term plans. Thinking about the future was exhausting. Thinking about fighting... even more so.

One afternoon, Dick was shaping a new batarang. He had been using a similar style to Bruce's as Nightwing for a while, but they weren't quite right for him. So, given he had a lot of downtime at the moment and needed to get his mind off things, he decided to try coming up with his own design. He still hadn't decided on a name. Batarangs obviously fell into Bruce's never-ending inclination to name everything after a bat. Robin's version tended to be called a birdarang because there was no elegant way to name it after a robin. Robinarang was too much of a mouthful.

Dick tried out a few names. Nightwing by itself was too long to really suit any compound word, much the same as Robin. Wingarang sounded like a frat boy's slang for his genitals, which was the last thing Dick needed to think about when he was trying to concentrate on fighting. Nightarang was no better. Honestly, trying to fit his new identity into _-arang_ was fruitless. He'd already reinvented himself. Why not reinvent his weapons?

The word shuriken didn't really lend itself to compound words. Wingiken sounded like a flying ramekin dish. Nightiken was also a no.

Dick flung the unnamed projectile at the nearest training dummy. The balance was still off, so it hit the metal post holding the dummy up with a _ding_ , before bumping into the leg and finally landing on the floor.

Huh. Ding. Rhymes with wing.

“Wing-ding,” Dick said out loud, trying the word on his tongue. It sounded ridiculous, but it didn't really matter. Onomatopoeia and a rhyme in a two-syllable package. Sweet.

“Wing-ding?” Bruce had stepped into the batcave. He'd ditched his jacket and tie somewhere upstairs and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He hadn't wanted to go into the office today and leave Dick alone, especially with Wally having to go to school, but there had been a few meetings he couldn't avoid. Alfred was upstairs somewhere. He was good with giving Dick space when he needed it.

Dick hopped off the chair in front of his workbench and retrieved the weapon. He'd shaved the ends too thin; he'd have to start again. He tossed it into the metal scraps bin to get melted down and reused later.

“I named my batarang,” Dick said, grabbing another sheet of metal to work with. “Well, it's not really a batarang. Similar shape but I think I'm gonna make mine a little fatter than yours.”

The corner of Bruce's mouth quirked upward. “And you're calling it a wing-ding.”

Dick shrugged. “Names are hard. It rhymes.”

“It's a good name,” Bruce said. “Very you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, big guy.” Dick had been working on these things for most of the day. It gave him a peace of mind he hadn't found in a long time. He could feel the fatigue creeping in the corners of his brain, but he still had time before it became too much to bear. At this rate, he probably wouldn't get a working prototype done today, but that was okay. He could work on it again tomorrow.

“How are you feeling today?” Bruce asked.

“Not too bad.” Dick dug out a sheet of grid-lined paper. He should probably just plan this thing and stop wasting metal. “Getting tired, but I'll live.” He found a ruler and a pencil and started ruling out a potential shape.

“That's good,” Bruce said, watching Dick work. “The school called a few minutes ago.”

Dick pressed too hard and the pencil lead snapped. He jammed it into a sharpener and twisted. “Oh?”

“Next week they're running a 'no excuses' week for absences,” Bruce said, quieter than he would usually talk. “Detentions for singular unapproved absences, suspensions for three or more.”

“And since the charges I pressed resulted in no conviction, they don't think I should be staying out of school anymore.” Dick dropped the sharpened pencil on the desk; his focus was gone.

“Skinner is still teaching there,” Bruce told him. “I can push back on this if you want to stay home.”

“I thought they were already mad at you for keeping me out of class for so long.” Dick balled up the ruined sketch and tossed it in the paper bin.

“Somebody's always mad at me. It's a part of being in the public eye.”

Even the thought of somebody else having to fight on Dick's behalf was exhausting. “It's fine. I'll go.”

“Dick, you don't have to do that. If need be, I can pull you out of the Academy. We could go back to homeschooling, just like when you first came to us, or I could find you another school.”

“I said it's fine,” Dick said, a little more curtly than he'd intended. He took a deep breath. “Sorry.” He took another. “It's fine. I'll deal.”

“If you're certain, I'll make sure they keep you out of Skinner's classes.” Bruce eyed him seriously for a moment. “I know I've been harsh with you lately. Harsher than I should've been. But there is no shame in asking for something you need. If, at any point, you feel like you don't want to go there anymore, just say the word and I'll pull you out.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Bruce went back upstairs. Dick packed up the desk. To tell the truth, he really didn't want to be the in the same building as Skinner again, but this constant tug-of-war on multiple fronts was becoming too much to bear. He couldn't stay out of school forever, and he just knew that Bruce would hate to have to take him out of Gotham Academy, even if he would never say as such. Bruce had attended the Academy as a teenager himself, just like his father before him, and had a lot of history with the school. Not to mention it was the top school in the city. Probably even the state. The school was important to Bruce. It held a lot of memories for him, not all of them pleasant, but they all played a part in shaping him into the person he was today.

Bruce would make sure Skinner stayed away from him. It was in the school's best interests to keep the accusing student away from the 'falsely'-accused teacher anyway.

Thinking about it was giving him a headache, so he tried to put it out of his mind.

* * *

Dick stopped talking to everyone after they collectively tried to convince him to stay home. Wally stopped coming over after Dick told him to go home for the third day in a row. It was fine. He was fine.

He totally wasn't freaking out about going back to school. It wasn't like he'd thrown a few schoolbooks at the wall when the words didn't sink into his brain fast enough. It wasn't like the sight of his school uniform made him nauseous. It wasn't like his brain vividly came up with dozens of scenarios that portrayed Skinner finding a way around Bruce's insistence that he stay away from Dick and taking him away and making sure he never saw the light of day ever again.

Dick didn't feel prepared when his first day back at school arrived. The family had given up trying to change his mind. Dick throwing a plate at the wall at the most recent dinner he'd attended in the manor and yelling that it was his goddamn decision had probably played a large part in that. He still wasn't talking to them, though.

Barbara and Artemis were at the school gates when Alfred dropped Dick off the morning of his return. He'd sent each of them a text message telling them he was coming back, but hadn't spoken to them directly yet.

“So what happened?” Barbara asked once Dick reached them. “Is the school forcing you to come back?”

“Basically,” Dick replied. “Bruce offered to fight them on it, but he doesn't have much pull with them after everything so I didn't think it'd make a difference.”

“Wally warned me you were in an 'everything is pointless' mood,” Artemis said.

Dick took a deep breath, glaring into the sky for a moment. “Remind me to kick his ass next time I see him.”

“That's better.”

“Hilarious.”

Barbara roll her eyes at them and started for the double doors. Dick and Artemis followed her, Dick swallowing down his trepidation. He wouldn't let this defeat him. He had every right to be here. He was here long before Skinner was, and he would be here long after the bastard was gone. This place was _his_.

Class was okay. The teachers mostly left Dick alone, probably out of fear of Bruce. The reason didn't really matter. Dick was able to get his work done in peace. The chatter of the other students around him was distracting, but Barbara was right at his side and that made focusing easier. Working on his wing-dings had proved to him that he was still capable of concentrating on the intellectual side of things, not just the physical, even if it was hard to do.

He got through all his classes easily prior to lunch. He ate outside with Artemis and Barbara; the cafeteria was loud and the long tables reminded him of things he didn't want to think about. The other kids weren't talking to him, and the few who paid him any mind glared and whispered to each other. It wasn't too hard to imagine what they were saying.

Regardless, with the girls sticking with him, he was coping okay. Alfred had packed him a pasta salad and he managed to eat about half of it before shoving the rest towards Artemis, who was more than willing to finish the rest. She hadn't brought lunch today, and the cafeteria food cost money that she obviously didn't have. Under different circumstances, she probably would've been too proud to accept his food, but it must have been obvious to her that he couldn't stomach what was left. So it worked out well for both of them.

With everything having gone reasonably well so far, Dick was looking forward to Math class at the end of the day. Math had been hard for him for a while, but maybe today would be the day he could break through the block in his brain. He missed being able to do complicated equations in his head. It used to be something he did to relax, before the world got turned upside down and his brain was filled with fire and the Joker's laughter.

Any hope of reconnecting with the mathematical part of his brain was completely dashed when the teacher walked in.

Because, apparently, Skinner had wormed his way into substituting for the real teacher. Dick kept his mouth firmly shut, even as he wanted to shout until this throat was torn.

“Mr Bronson is unwell today,” Skinner—Mr Smith, as he was called here—said, setting down some books on his desk. “Open your books to chapter sixteen.”

Dick sliced his finger on the paper doing it; his hands were shaking. He tried to ignore the stinging, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Listening to Skinner's voice made his insides clench, but he couldn't afford to zone out. The slightest misstep could turn the man's focus onto him. Skinner would undoubtedly be looking for any excuse to single Dick out, to punish him for daring to speak up in that trial.

Dick did his best to focus on the schoolwork, but he was wound so tightly and jumping at every sound and movement that he could barely get anything done. Barbara tried to help him.

“Take a deep breath,” she said quietly. “He can't do anything in front of the class. And you can do this stuff in your sleep.”

“Miss Gordon,” said Skinner. “Would you like to share with the class?” Dick found that profoundly unfair, since everybody else was chatting as they did their work.

Barbara opened her mouth and shut it again. So Dick decided to say something.

“She was just helping me with a problem,” he said. It wasn't a complete lie. He did have a problem that was related to mathematics. And the teacher.

“Raise your hand if you need help next time,” Skinner said. “You're in class for a reason.”

Dick came _so_ close to rolling his eyes at that. But he didn't. Skinner was already enough of an asshole without further provocation.

“Yes, sir,” Dick said as politely as he could manage. Neither he nor Barbara spoke again for the rest of the class. Dick barely got anything done before the class was ending and Skinner was checking everyone's books.

“See me after class,” Skinner told him after seeing the lack of work done. Dick wanted to disappear. How bad would the consequences be if he just ran out right now? The question was irrelevant, though, since he was rooted to the spot.

Class ended and everyone else left, except Barbara, who was taking her sweet time packing up her books.

“Go home, Gordon,” Skinner said. “This is a private discussion.”

“And how would Mr Wayne feel about you having a 'private discussion' with his kid?” Barbara replied coolly. “I know that one of the conditions of Dick's return to school was that you were supposed to keep away from him. I can't imagine Mr Wayne would be happy to hear his requests were ignored.”

“Mr Wayne doesn't have as much power as he thinks he does,” Skinner said. “Now leave before I call security.”

Barbara snatched up her books. “Fine. But I'm calling my father. And Mr Wayne.” She stormed out, and Dick wanted to die.

It wasn't her fault. She'd tried. Knowing her, she'd stay nearby in case Skinner tried to abduct him again. The more Dick thought about it, the less likely a second abduction seemed. It would be foolish of Skinner to give up a fine hand here. Dick's accusations had been deemed false, and Skinner was clear to keep teaching despite the protestations of a very powerful member of Gotham's high society. He had connections, and Dick had a reputation. It would be much, much more beneficial to let Dick go at the end of this exchange. Once Skinner had done what he wanted to him.

“It's cute how you think your rich daddy can protect you from the consequences of being a lying little shit,” Skinner said softly.

“I know what you're doing,” Dick replied, just as quietly. His heart beat like a drum in his chest, and he forced all his energy into seeming calm on the outside.

Skinner took hold of Dick's chin. “Do you? And you think you can outplay me?”

“Not yet. Give it time. It's not in your best interests to either kidnap or kill me. You've got a good thing going on here. Everybody thinks you're the wounded party in a spoiled child's smear campaign against a teacher he doesn't like. But that won't last forever.”

Skinner smirked. “So confident. So brave. But I know how to break you.” His fingers tightened to the point of pain, and Dick instinctively tried and failed to pull away. “I know what you fear. I know your limits. I know how much... persuasion... you need.”

Dick balled his hands into fists, ready to swing right into that smug bastard's face and damn the consequences. Skinner laughed at him.

“Are you going to fight me?” Skinner's hand shifted to Dick's throat and squeezed, just enough to make breathing difficult but not enough to render him unconscious. “That won't end well for you. We've established that already. And if you do win, you're the one who will be on trial. Nobody will believe you felt threatened. They already know what a little liar you are.” Skinner tossed him to the floor. Dick caught himself on his hands. Skinner sat in Dick's abandoned chair.

“You won't get away with this,” Dick hissed, scrambling to get his feet under him.

“Won't I?” Skinner grabbed him by his shirtfront and dragged him onto his knees. “My dear boy, you can tell as many people as you like. Nobody will believe you.”

Everything Skinner said swirled around in Dick's head. The situation had spiralled out of his control. Going back to school, defying Skinner's terrifying presence in his memories, had been about regaining control over his life. But he'd played right into Skinner's hands. There was no winning here.

But... people did believe him, didn't they? Bruce and Alfred and Jason and Wally and Dinah and Barbara and Artemis. They all believed him. Or so it seemed. Dick didn't go into the manor very often. They could've said anything up there. He avoided the news. They could've done a full interview about Dick making everything up, and he wouldn't have known about it.

Barbara seemed to believe him. But she was a cop's daughter. Surely she had considered all eventualities, including Dick having made it all up. She and Artemis kept up with the news. They would've seen every piece of vitriol the TV shows and newspapers and websites came up with. Barbara could've been looking out for him out of courtesy, or on the off-chance he hadn't been lying, or because she was pissed the school had ignored the arrangements that had been made for Dick's return, regardless of whether they were based in truth or not.

Staring up into Skinner's vicious, joyful face, everything Dick had thought to be true, everyone Dick thought trusted him, was called into question.

Skinner stroked his cheek. “Little boys can only cry wolf so many times before people stop believing them, Richard. Now be a good boy and do as I say, and maybe I'll forget you nearly tried to hit me.”

Dick felt a brief surge of rage, a new urge to punch him until he nose turned to mush, but it was quickly smothered by hopelessness. Skinner grabbed him by the hair.

* * *

“No, I agreed to return Dick to class on the condition Mr Smith would be kept away from him!” Bruce had been railing at the school principal for a solid ten minutes. Dick sat outside the office with Alfred, trying not to vomit. Alfred was watching him with concern, but every time Dick tried to work up the courage to say something, Skinner's words rammed into his mind.

_Nobody will believe you_.

And so he kept his mouth shut.

Bruce stormed out of the office shortly afterwards. “We're going home,” he shot over his shoulder. Alfred picked up Dick's schoolbag and they followed Bruce down the hallway, out of the building and to the car.

Alfred slid into the driver's seat, but Bruce sat in the back with Dick. Dick wished he didn't. He didn't want to be near another human being.

“Dick,” Bruce said after they'd started moving. “You were left alone with him for at least twenty minutes. Did he do anything to you?”

Again, Dick contemplated telling the truth, but those words just wouldn't leave him alone.

_Nobody will believe you._

_Little boys can only cry wolf so many times before people stop believing_ _them_ _, Richard._

So Dick shook his head. Bruce visibly relaxed, and Dick thought he'd probably done the right thing. Bruce had enough on his plate anyway, even on the off-chance he did believe him. Which he probably wouldn't. Who would? The whole situation was preposterous.

Dick took a sip of water from his drink bottle, but the taste of what Skinner had made him do wouldn't go away. He put the bottle away before Bruce started worrying again.

He was out of the car the instant it stopped in the manor's underground carpark, snapping at Bruce to leave him alone when he tried to follow. He took the batcave entrance, feeling slightly better when nobody came after him. But the improvement quickly dissipated.

_Nobody will believe you_

_Nobody will believe you._

_**Nobody will believe you.** _

He couldn't do this anymore. All he could see was Skinner looming over him. All he could taste was him on his tongue and down his throat and all he could hear was _nobody will believe you_ over and over and over and fucking over again and his stomach churned and his throat burned and his skin itched and he just wanted it all to end.

Before he'd fully processed that thought, a knife was in his hand and he'd stumbled into the nearest bathroom. And his arms were streaked with burning red cuts that cried blood and all he could do was fold himself into a ball in the corner and make more and more and his vision was blurring and breathing was hard and he was getting so tired and maybe it'd all be okay if he just slept and then didn't wake up again. Wasn't heaven supposed to be warm and safe and happy and completely painless?

But didn't people who killed themselves go to hell? But would hell even be worse than what he'd already been through? How could hell compare to being kidnapped and tortured and leered at and followed into the shower and tied down and broken until you'd do anything they asked you to do as long as it just _stopped_?

And people could always be wrong about that anyway. He couldn't remember anything from the time he was dead. What if there was nothing? No thoughts no light no happiness no sadness

just nothing

that wouldn't be so bad

whatever awaited couldn't be any worse than what he was leaving behind

Dick let his eyes slide shut at last.

* * *

But then, he woke again. The ceiling was rock. Batcave rock? Thinking was hard. His brain was a cloud. And his head was lying on a cloud. A... pillow? And a blanket on top of him?

A machine beeped softly somewhere beside him, but he didn't feel like turning his head to look. Somebody was sitting by his bedside. A large somebody. Panic started to sink through his brain cloud, but didn't quite get all the way before--

“Dick, it's me.” Bruce's voice. “You're safe.”

Dick was never going to feel safe again. Even the haze of drugs—that had to be the cause of the brain cloud, right?—wasn't enough to stop him from being aware enough to come to that conclusion.

Oh, his forearms were bandaged. He hadn't noticed that before. They were probably all stitched up, too, judging from what little Dick could remember of the knife and the bathroom.

“Dick,” Bruce said gently. Dick's attention flicked back to him, all serious and grim and frowning and those all practically meant the same thing but Dick's brain had turned into water vapour. “I know what happened.”

Dick's throat was dry. He swallowed. “You do?”

Bruce nodded slowly. “I had WayneTech security cameras installed in the classrooms a few years ago. The administration knows about them, but most teachers don't. Everything Skinner did was caught on camera.”

Dick hadn't known about those cameras either. Betrayal at the omission stung dimly through the painkillers.

“I was going to tell you once we got back from Bosnia,” Bruce said quietly. “But...”

Then Dick had died. He supposed he could forgive Bruce's lapse.

“Okay,” Dick said.

Bruce looked tired, and far older than Dick had ever seen him. “The police have the footage. We were planning to hold off on pressing charges until the corruption investigation has enough evidence to reopen the other case. If... that's okay with you.”

Dick couldn't get used to Bruce being hesitant about anything. And consulting him on things. It helped him feel like he had some agency, but it was still saddening to hear Bruce so uncertain.

And Dick couldn't help but fear there would never be enough evidence to reopen the case. Skinner clearly had connections so powerful that he didn't even bat an eye at the thought of Bruce bringing his substantial wrath down upon him.

This all would've been so much easier if Dick had died in the bathroom. Enough was enough.

“Alfred found you in the bathroom,” Bruce said, as if he knew what Dick was thinking. “He went to look for you after a security officer called me about the camera footage. Dick, I need to ask you something. I don't want you to think I'm blaming you, but I need to know why you didn't tell me what Skinner did.”

The words jammed themselves into Dick's head again.

 _Nobody will believe you_.

Even through the painkiller haze, he could feel his insides contract and he wished he still had the knife so he could just cut them out and be done with it because he was tired of feeling this way. He was tired of being afraid. He was tired of people doing whatever the fuck they wanted to him. He was tired of being tired and trying to survive through the days when everything hurt and his brain was on fire and he just wanted it to end but it never did.

Words were jammed inside Dick's head but he couldn't find any to leave his mouth.

“It's okay,” Bruce said gently.

That simple sentence burned rage into Dick's belly and pushed words into his mouth at last. “No,” he growled. “It's _not_ okay.” He sat up, arms shaking under his weight. “It's never going to be okay. Everything is fucked up and I'm fucking everything up and all I wanted to do was get away from all of it but I can't even die right so now I'm trapped in a fucking bed drugged to the gills _yet again_ because apparently that's the only thing I'm good at aside from attracting assholes who think they can do whatever they want to me and not suffer any consequences and they're completely right because nobody's stopping them so I guess I'll just hide out in this fucking cave for the rest of my life because it's the only place in this godforsaken city where somebody hasn't tried to kill me or stab me or shoot me or kidnap me or fucking _rape_ me and one of them even has the gall to say nobody will believe me if I say something and of course I completely fucking believe him because everything in my life up to that point has proven him right so boom there's your answer. I hope you choke on it.”

“I see.” Bruce's face was completely unreadable. Dick hated it. He wanted to punch it. But he didn't have the strength to try.

And wasn't that just the story of his life?

So, naturally, with brute physical force out of the question and all his energy spent on that rant, he burst into tears. Bruce sat quietly beside him through it all.

“It's my own fault,” Dick muttered, trying to brush his cheeks dry even as they were wet again as soon as he was done.

“No,” Bruce replied firmly. “You've been fighting against the injustices committed against you for a long time. You were exhausted from that fight and feeling guilty for allowing others to fight on your behalf. The school did not respect the conditions laid down for your return to class and Skinner _chose_ to assault you. None of that is your fault. Despite your training, you are still a child who has been failed by the adults in your life, including myself.”

“No, Bruce--”

“Dick,” Bruce interrupted, but gently. “Please listen. It was never your responsibility to right the wrongs done to you. The same goes for your safety and wellbeing. As your guardian, that failure rests with me. If somebody other than the people who harmed you must be blamed, then that blame falls on me. I accept that. So if you need to blame somebody, blame me. Not yourself. You are the victim in all this. Do you remember one of the first lessons I taught you?”

Dick remembered. “The victim is never to blame for the crimes committed against them.” The occasional exception had cropped up, but that was usually when abused or otherwise harmed people finally snapped and lashed out against the people who hurt them. And even then, justice had to be served. For all the wounded parties involved.

“That applies to you, Dick.”

Dick wiped his eyes dry at last. “Yes. Thank you.” The thoughts still buzzed through his head, which was feeling a lot less cloud-like now, but Bruce had a point. It was hard to see right now, but it was there. He just had to keep focusing on it and maybe one day it'd sink in.

Bruce cracked the smallest of smiles. Dick didn't have it in him to smile back yet. They sat quietly for a time, the remainder of Dick's anger and despair slowly seeping away. He was not okay. He didn't know if he would ever be okay again. He still didn't want to be alive. But something had shifted. He needed time for it all to make sense, maybe.

“Wally was here earlier,” Bruce said after a while. “I had Barry and Iris take him home. He was very upset.”

Okay. Ouch. Guilt.

“I'll let him know you're awake,” Bruce added. “I'm sure he'll want to see you.”

Dick wasn't sure he was ready for that. He'd done nothing but lash out and send him away the past few days. And now he'd hurt him by trying to kill himself, and he hadn't even thought about him once.

“You don't have to see him if you don't want to,” Bruce said. “I understand you two have had some trouble recently. But he should know you're awake.” He took his phone out of his pocket. “With your permission?”

Dick nodded. Bruce called the West-Allen's landline.

“Hello, Iris.” Bruce always sounded weird when he was being polite, closer to Brucie Wayne, king of the upper-class twits, than Batman. “Yes, that's me. Dick is awake. Yes, thank you. No, not today. I'll ask him tomorrow. All right. Goodbye.” He hung up and turned back to Dick. “Iris is going to tell Wally you're awake and not to come around today.”

“Thanks.” Dick was nowhere near emotionally ready to handle Wally today. Being near Bruce was pushing his limits already.

“You should rest. I'll have Alfred give you another dose of medication.”

Being even more drugged up wasn't exactly something Dick was looking forward to. “Can he not? I haven't had the best experience with people sticking needles in me lately.” Fear gas, blood tests. Happy stuff.

“I'd rather not see you suffer, but it's your call,” Bruce replied. “I'll let Alfred know.” He put Dick's cell phone on the bedside table. “Call one of us if you change your mind. You know exactly who has access to the batcave, and the level of security on each entry point. I'll check back in later, but you are safe here.”

Dick lay back down and let Bruce adjust his blankets.

“Just so you know, there is a camera in this room,” Bruce said. “Dinah and Alfred believe we need to have it working when nobody is in the room with you, at least until Dinah can assess how likely you are to try again. You're free to use your phone to call whoever you want. The camera doesn't record audio and you know I don't bug your phone.”

“I'd kick your ass if you did,” Dick replied quietly.

“You could certainly try.” Bruce untangled the IV line jutting out from Dick's arm. “I'll be at the computer for the next few minutes, and then I'll be upstairs until it's time to patrol. I'm going to take Jason on patrol with me. Alfred will either be in the house or the cave at all times. Wally is welcome to visit if you decide you want him here. You can call any of us at any time. Dinah is also available if you want to talk to her.”

Dick nodded.

“Try to get some rest,” Bruce said, and left the room.

Dick curled up under the covers. Rest wasn't going to happen. Not for a while. He noticed a conspicuous lack of medical equipment in the room. Alfred had probably removed anything Dick could potentially use to hurt himself, which was pretty much everything that would normally be here.

Lying alone in the room, with nothing but time to think, Dick realised he missed Wally. But, at the same time, he couldn't handle seeing him face-to-face. But he did have his phone, and Bruce hadn't exactly been subtle in his attempt to reconnect the two of them.

His arms twinged a little as he typed out a text message and his fingers felt like sausages. He quickly scrapped the attempt at a long message and just typed out: _“Hey. I'm alive. Typing's hard. Sry if I sound like a dick.”_

Wally replied almost instantly. _“You scared the hell out of me. And it's my job to make those puns.”_

“ _I know. Sorry. On both accounts.”_

“ _You're forgiven. Bruce didn't give me details aside from Skinner doing something and you trying to kill yourself afterwards. Wanna talk about it?”_

“ _Skinner forced me to do oral and then I got home and cut up my arms. Don't remember much of that last bit. Sending another msg.”_ Dick sent that one and took a break because his arms were aching. _“Woke up a few mins ago. Bruce talked about stuff.”_

“ _Did that go okay?”_

“ _Mostly._ _B_ _lames himself bc of course he does. Says it wasn't my fault.”_

“ _Good. It's not your fault. Wasn't the school meant to keep Skinner away from you?”_

“ _Yes. Math teacher got sick so he took the class.”_

“ _Convenient.”_

Dick hadn't spared much thought for the teacher who should've taken the class, but it was pretty suspicious that he happened to call in sick the same day Dick returned to school and the one teacher who happened to be available to take over was Skinner. Dick hadn't even known he was qualified to teach Math.

“ _Skinner kept me after class. Babs tried to stick up for me. She called Bruce and her dad when she couldn't. Bruce had cameras in the classrooms so a security guy told him what happened. Don't wanna get into why I didn't say anything.”_

“ _Fair enough. Is someone with you?”_

“ _Not atm but there's a camera. Fam's around if I need them.”_ His arms were really starting to protest. Maybe he'd have to take the extra painkillers after all.

“ _Jfc get someone with you. A camera can't stop you from hurting yourself. I can come if no one else can.”_

“ _Cool it,”_ Dick sent quickly, before formulating a longer message. _“Gonna get Alfred to give me more painkillers so I can sleep. We'll talk tomorrow, k?”_

“ _Okay. I'll come around lunchtime.”_

“ _Ok. Goodnight.”_

“ _Goodnight. Love you.”_

“ _Love you too.”_ Dick then called Alfred to ask for the painkillers.

Fortunately, Dick didn't need to have another needle stuck in him. Alfred injected the medication via the IV catheter already in Dick's arm.

“This will make you feel drowsy in a moment, which should help you sleep,” Alfred said. “I'll check on you periodically during the night.”

“Okay.”

“Master Bruce and Master Jason are about to leave for patrol. I will let them know you've taken the medication.” Alfred finished administering the medication. “Would you like me to remain here until you've fallen asleep, sir?”

Dick nodded. Alfred took a seat by his bedside.

It didn't take Dick long to fall into sleep. Today had been hellish, and he was glad it was over, even if he hadn't planned to live beyond that afternoon.

* * *

Bruce was there when Dick woke late in the morning.

“I have a question,” Dick said, after a few minutes of grogginess had passed.

Bruce smiled at that. “Do you now?”

“I'm getting IV nutrients at the moment, aren't I?”

“Yes. We weren't sure when you'd wake up yesterday and it seemed the best solution considering your recent difficulty with eating.”

“Okay. Thought so.”

Bruce was still smiling. It was weird.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Just remembering when you were little,” Bruce replied. Oh. Right. Dick knew what he was talking about. He used to ask questions all the time. What was that painting? Why was the fruit in that bowl fake? Could he slide down the banister? Why were Bruce's shoes so shiny? Could he try some champagne? Where was Alfred's hair? To be fair, he hadn't been fully awake when he'd asked that last question. He'd also been nine years old at the time.

“Batman, legendary terror of the night, looking like a doofus and reminiscing about his kids. I should take a picture.”

“You should not.” Now Bruce was frowning, but the effect was lost because he had to fight the smile trying to work its way back onto his face. “I don't need Clark getting his hands on it.”

“I think Ollie would be more of a pain about it. Or Barry.”

“They're all as bad as each other.”

“Good point.”

Bruce lifted a laptop onto his knees. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Slightly high. The drugs haven't quite worn off yet.”

“Can you focus?”

Dick shrugged. “If I try, probably. Why?”

“Jason and I found a veritable goldmine of data last night.” If Bruce was dipping into metaphor, he had to be pretty excited. “If what we found is what I think we found, we could get a retrial in the new year.”

Dick gestured for Bruce to put the laptop on his legs. “Where'd you find it?”

Bruce put the laptop on him and started it up. “With George Skinner and Brian White behind bars while the DA decides how to proceed, I've been tracking other members of the organisation. We followed Kevin Scott to a derelict building on the outskirts of Gotham. It looks like we found their off-site data backups.” He opened one of several files. “I recognised jury names in this file.”

“So this could be exactly what we need,” Dick whispered, taking in the names and dates and notes that were clearly in code. There was a pattern to the code, and it was already unravelling right in his mind. “Wow, that is a pathetic code. I could crack this in my sleep.”

“The police have a copy,” Bruce said. “I started decoding the files myself. You can find my work in a related folder.”

“Okay,” Dick said slowly. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, if you're feeling up to it, I would like your help. The more trusted eyes we have on this, the less likely we are to let mistakes slip through the cracks.”

“All right. I'll do it.” Dick was aware this request was more to give him peace of mind than to allow him to make an important contribution to the investigation. Bruce rarely made mistakes with data and he already had trusted officers doing their own decoding as a backup. But Dick needed as much peace of mind as he could get.

This data file was the best news he'd had in weeks. Bruce watched over his shoulder as Dick scrolled through it, familiarising himself with the code being used. He couldn't work as quickly as he would've liked with his weak arms and the medication fogging his brain, but he managed. He picked out the important parts and typed annotations in the margins that included the translation and the significance of that piece of data.

He'd been at it for a few hours, his arms aching and probably due for more medication, when Wally poked his head in.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“It's fine,” Dick said. “Bruce and Jason found some incriminating data last night. It's written in code. I'm decoding as a backup in case somebody misses something.”

“I should keep working on my copy,” Bruce said, getting up. “I'll be at the batcomputer.” He left the two of them alone.

Wally took the seat Bruce had just vacated. “You look way better than I was expecting.”

“Then I guess it's a good thing I've got long sleeves,” Dick replied. Wally glanced down at Dick's arms, failing to hide a wince.

“Christ,” he muttered. “I—sorry. I was worried you were going to end up hurting yourself and... okay, no. You don't need to hear this right now.”

Dick saved the document and closed the laptop. “It's fine. Lay it on me.”

Wally chewed his cheek for a while, and Dick was half-convinced he wasn't going to talk again. But then, he took a sharp breath. “I almost lost you. God. Bruce texted me to get to the manor and it was like the night they took you all over again. And then I got here and we knew where you were, but you were dying and I...” Wally rubbed forcefully at his eyes. “I got scared. Really scared. Bruce actually called Barry and Iris to come take me home because I was freaking out so badly.”

“Bruce told me about that,” Dick replied. “Honestly, I wasn't thinking of anyone but myself. I'm...”

“Don't you dare apologise,” Wally said sharply. “You've been spiralling hard for a long time. I don't need to be there to get what happened. Skinner set you off. That's not your fault.”

“Do you and Bruce compare notes?”

Wally's expression quickly shifted into the most annoying grin in the world. “Not always, but you know what they say about great minds...”

“They seem to attract conceited redheads,” Dick said dryly.

“Nice to see your dickish sense of humour is still intact. Despite everything.”

“So help me, Wally, if my arms weren't stitched to hell and back...”

“You'd give me a hug?”

Despite himself, Dick laughed a little bit and let Wally kiss his forehead. The bantered back and forth for a while and he hung onto that lightness for as long as he could, but it was like trying to trap a cloud in his hands.

“Maybe I could use that hug after all,” he said quietly. Wally darted around to the other side of the bed, which was IV-free. He sat on the edge and Dick leaned into him.

“We'll get them for this,” Wally soothed, gently rubbing Dick's back. “We'll get them for everything they've done.”

Believing that was hard, but the weight of the laptop reminded Dick how close they were to making that a reality. He just had to survive long enough to see it happen. That would be a feat in itself. Dick had no idea when he'd feel comfortable leaving the batcave again, or when he'd be able to look at sharp objects without planning out how they could free him from the hell his life had become.

“Hang in there, okay?”

“I don't know if I can,” Dick murmured, “but I'll try.”

 


	28. Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the batcave too dangerous for Dick in his current condition and the manor still too painful to live in, alternate arrangements have to be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussion of rape, suicidal thoughts, referenced suicide attempt, thoughts of self-harm, referenced self-harm.
> 
> This chapter was getting long as hell so I found the most elegant spot to chop it and stick the rest in the next chapter. So this one is a touch shorter than the other recent ones. Also still full of angst, but we've got a hopeful ending to this chapter, which is nice.

Once Dick was down to a lower dose of painkillers that allowed him to function reasonably well, the matter of where he would stay for the time being had to be addressed. Bruce and Dinah got together with Dick and Wally at a rarely-used conference table in a weapon-free corner of the batcave to hash out the details.

“You're obviously doing a little better than you were a few days ago,” Dinah said, “but I'd still classify you as a suicide risk. I'll need to see a few weeks of improvement and complete a full evaluation of your mental state before I feel comfortable putting you in close proximity to dangerous objects.”

“So the batcave's out,” Dick surmised. “And I can't deal with the manor.”

“You could stay with me at Barry and Iris's place,” Wally suggested.

“I have a penthouse in the Wayne Enterprises building,” said Bruce. He wasn't exactly glaring at Wally, but there was definitely some narrowed eye action going on there. “The whole family can move there so someone is always nearby.”

“With zeta beam technology and two speedsters living in the house, my aunt and uncle's place isn't that far away,” Wally replied. “Dick's been there before and it's out of Gotham. That'll be less stressful than packing up and moving the whole family further into the city.”

“What happens when they have work and you have school?”

“That's... ah, shit. Good question.”

“I'd rather stay with Wally's family than at the penthouse,” Dick said, “but I'm not making Barry or Iris take time off on my account.”

“Could you go to Mount Justice during the day?” Wally suggested. “Kaldur's usually around and Roy still visits sometimes.”

“I can't approve that,” Dinah said. “Mount Justice is almost as risky as the batcave when it comes to weapon access.”

“And I don't want to see the team yet,” Dick added.

“So it looks like the Wayne Enterprises penthouse is the best option,” Dinah said.

“Great,” Dick muttered.

“What's bothering you about it? Maybe we can find a compromise.”

“Well, for starters, it's nearly impossible to get into the building without everybody and their dog knowing you're there,” Dick replied. “Unless we use the creepy underground entrance to the creepy backup batcave—bunker—whatever the hell you call it—and take the private elevator of doom up to the penthouse. And there are always helicopters flying around the city so unless the curtains are closed at all times, somebody's going to spot me up there sometime. Also, windows. The whole place is made of windows. Big windows. I hate windows. Oh, and there are hundreds of people working on the levels below during the day and it doesn't matter that they don't usually have access to the penthouse because logic no longer applies to me, apparently.”

“Could you stay there during the day and get over to my place once school lets out?” Wally suggested.

“I'll have to recalibrate the zeta tube in the bunker,” Bruce said, “but it should be doable.”

“If that's the best we can do, I guess.” Dick really hated the idea of being within a few floors of people he didn't know right now. At least he normally knew everybody in the manor at all times, even if he couldn't stand being up there.

“Alfred will be in the penthouse during the day and I'll usually be a few floors down,” Bruce said. “If you're sure you don't want to sleep there, we'll go back to the manor when you head to Central City.”

“I can run to the zeta tube straight from school,” said Wally. “Then we can walk to Barry and Iris's house. Or I could run there and bring the car around.”

“I think I'd prefer the car,” Dick replied. “If doesn't make things hard for Barry or Iris.”

“It'll be fine,” Wally said. “Iris can take the other car and Barry can either carpool or run to work. He runs half the time anyway because he sucks at time management and running's the only way he doesn't end up late.”

“Okay. If you're sure it's not too much trouble.”

Wally sighed at him. “Dick. They won't mind. I promise. I'll give them a call and we'll sort it out.”

While he went off to do that and Bruce left to talk to Alfred about the arrangement, Dick tried very hard to not hate himself for letting Wally and his family do this for him. And Bruce and Alfred were bending over backwards to make sure he felt as safe as possible during the day, too.

“How do you feel about this?” Dinah asked him.

Dick shrugged. He didn't feel like getting into it.

“You're not inconveniencing anyone,” Dinah said, somehow picking up on his mood. “They want to help you because they care.”

“That doesn't help,” Dick said quietly.

“Maybe not right now, but keep it in mind. Nobody thinks you're a burden.”

That was nice, but after the whole incident with Skinner, Dick would be perfectly happy with never hearing the word 'nobody' ever again. He hadn't mentioned that to Dinah yet, so she didn't know it was a sore spot. She was switched on enough to know something was wrong, though.

“Dick? What is it?”

Dick let out a long sigh. He hadn't felt like talking about it today, but he supposed he should get it over with.

“Skinner,” he mumbled. “He said some stuff to me at school.” The words were rude little spikes determined to stick themselves in his thoughts. “Right before he...” Dick didn't finish that sentence. “He said 'nobody will believe you' and, like, logically it makes no sense but I believed him anyway. Just... with the trial going the way it did and the way people were looking at me at school... I don't know. It made sense. And it stayed with me all the way home and I couldn't get what he did out of my head and it just played over and over again and I... well. You know. I just wanted it to stop.”

Dinah took a moment to respond. Dick could almost see the gears turning in her mind.

“All right,” she said eventually. “I'll try to avoid saying that word again. Did you want to discuss what happened now or would you rather we scheduled an appointment so you've got time to prepare yourself?”

“I...” He'd already started talking about it anyway, and this was Dinah. “He was so smug about it all. So sure there'd be no consequences. And there wouldn't have been if Bruce hadn't had those cameras installed. The bastard played me like a fiddle. He knew what to say to get under my skin. I nearly fought back, but he grabbed me by the throat and said I'd be put on trial if I tried it because there's no way anyone would believe I felt threatened because he'd already been acquitted. So I didn't. I just let it happen. And he said I could tell as many people as I wanted because nobody would believe me. So I kept my mouth shut.”

“Do you want advice?” Dinah asked. “Or would you rather I just listened? I can do either.”

Dick wasn't sure he was in the right headspace to listen to what she had to say, but he also didn't feel like denying her. “If you've got something to say, say it.”

“Skinner knew what he was doing,” Dinah said. “From the moment he took over that class, he had a plan. He knew you would be unable to concentrate in his presence and that gave him the perfect opportunity to keep you after class and get you alone.” She'd heard the basics from Bruce. “Saying those things to you was planned. Skinner is a manipulator. He has to be. He would've been caught out a long time ago if he wasn't.”

“And I've been trained to deal with that,” Dick replied.

“You've been trained as a protector,” Dinah corrected. “You can't prepare for the kind of trauma you've endured. You can train to help others, and you can learn how to manage it in yourself, but that takes time. Some people take years. Others never get the hang of it. Skinner has been abusing children for a long time. He knows which buttons to push. There's no way you could've prepared yourself for that.”

Dick didn't realise he was picking at his bandages until Dinah told him to stop. He balled his hands into fists on the top of the table. He wanted to rip the stitches open. He wanted to see blood. He wanted to go to sleep again and not wake up.

Dinah seemed to sense the danger there. One phone call later, Wally was back.

Dick pressed his hands to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between the tips of his fingers and pressing against his eyelids.

Dinah gently directed him to breathe while Wally sat beside him, close but not quite touching. Dick couldn't handle touching. Not now.

He had no idea how long he sat there, eyes squeezed shut, fingers trembling and pushing hard enough to make weird spots of light burst across his shuttered vision. His fingernails pierced skin. He could feel the sting. It didn't bother him as much as it should have.

A soft _thud_ of something being placed in front of him startled him out of his frozen state. He jerked upright. It was just a glass of water. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Alfred. Of course.

The glass was cool and slippery to touch. He downed the whole thing in a few gulps. His head felt clearer. He still wanted to pull out his stitches, though. He knew exactly where all the weapons were in this place, and that was probably the worst thing for him right now.

“I can't be here,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“We can go the Central City now if you like,” Wally replied. “I'll get Barry to bring the car.”

Dick nodded. Wally made a quick phone call, while Dinah hurried after Alfred to get him to pack a bag. Everything was ready within ten minutes. Dick had a feeling they'd been planning how to deal with this from the moment he was found in the bathroom.

Alfred brought an overnight bag down to the batcave. “I packed your laptop, music player and all the chargers you need, but I it would be preferable if somebody else held onto them.” Because Dick could use the cords to hurt himself. Having to give up control of his communication would be frustrating, but he got it. He poked Wally's shoulder. Wally caught on right away.

“I can do that when he's at my place,” he said.

“I will take care of it at the penthouse,” said Alfred, passing the bag to Wally. They headed for the zeta tube, where Bruce was pressing buttons.

“Barry should be waiting in the car by now,” Wally said. “You ready?”

Dick nodded.

Bruce finished what he was doing. “The destination is set. Send me a message when you get to the house.”

Dick spotted Jason on the obstacle course, but couldn't catch his eye. Jason had been avoiding him lately, so it wasn't a surprise. He couldn't deal with it when he felt the way he did, so there was nothing he could do about it yet.

“I'll talk to him,” Bruce said. “The tube is ready when you are.”

They stepped through. Wally went first, then Dick followed. Dick felt a little woozy when he materialised on the other end. He hadn't eaten much, as per usual. Wally reached out to steady him.

“Need a minute?”

Dick shrugged off his hand, stepping out of the phone booth. Wally got the message and didn't touch him again.

Barry's car was idling by the curb. Wally stuck Dick's bag in the front seat and they climbed in the back.

“Iris is at work for a few more hours,” Barry said, pulling away from the curb. “Wanna get takeout for dinner?”

“I feel like Chinese,” Wally replied. “Lots and lots of Chinese. Like, just order everything on the menu. I'll eat it.”

“Will do,” said Barry. “Hey, Dick? What do you feel like?”

Dick shrugged. “I might eat some fried rice, but I can just steal some from Wally. I won't eat enough to justify getting a box just for me.”

“I'll order extra,” Barry replied. “Don't worry about it. Food doesn't last long in this family.”

“Okay.” Dick tried not to let it bother him. Wally had assured him Barry and Iris wanted to help. He wasn't an inconvenience. He _wasn't_.

Dick stared out the window for the rest of the ride. The light was different here than in Gotham. Brighter. Yellower. The streets were cleaner, the architecture more modern. Central City was a younger city than Gotham. Less baggage. And it showed in the buildings and the streets and the people. People were more relaxed here, more willing to look at each other on the street without clamping down on their valuables. Their faces were less pinched, less stressed.

The fear that suffocated Gotham on a daily basis didn't exist here. Dick wouldn't mind if some of that relaxation rubbed off on him. He could use a little less fear in his life, especially after these past few days where he was more in danger from his own brain than from any external influences.

They pulled into the driveway and Wally zipped out and grabbed Dick's bag from the front. Dick took a little more time to get out. He hadn't been here in a while.

“I cleared the sharp things out of the bathroom,” Barry said, unlocking the front door. “I'll show Wally where everything is later. Go get settled in while I find the takeout menus.”

Dick and Wally headed through the house to Wally's room. Wally set Dick's bag on the bed.

“The bed's yours,” Wally said. “I can sleep on the air mattress if you need some space, or on the couch if you need the room to yourself.”

“Wally, it's your bed. You don't have to--”

“You'll feel safer in here than out there near the front door,” Wally interrupted. “Look at the window.”

The window in Wally's room was tiny. Dick could probably fit through it if he really tried, but Wally definitely couldn't. A grown man definitely couldn't, either.

“Okay, I see your point. Thanks.”

“That's what I'm here for,” Wally said lightly. “Wanna see what wise old Alfred packed for you?”

Dick unzipped the bag. The obvious things were there, like his electronics and chargers that had been discussed. He passed the chargers over to Wally. There were also the necessities like clothes and underwear. Alfred had also packed a few books and the Nightwing costume, including the belt, computer glove and escrima.

“Want me to hang onto those?” Wally asked. “I'll keep them with your chargers.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Dick felt better for having those things around, but he also saw the danger there given his recent mental state. Dick hung onto the computer glove, though.

Wally zipped off to store them somewhere while Dick sorted through the rest of the bag. There was no point fully unpacking everything, aside from maybe the clothes, since he'd be heading to the penthouse on Monday. Maybe he could keep the clothes here so he didn't have to keep lugging them back and forth. He certainly had more than enough in Gotham.

Wally was back already. They put Dick's clothes away and stashed his bag in the closet.

The rest of the day up until dinnertime was spent watching mindless action movies. All three of them spent the whole time critiquing the physics of the explosions. Barry mouthed the bad dialogue, having clearly watched the same movie dozens of times before. Wally started punching him on the arm whenever he started doing it. Honestly, watching the two of them mess around was more entertaining than the movie itself.

Barry ordered dinner over the phone halfway through the second movie. When he went out to pick it up, Wally paused the movie.

“Hang on,” he said, dashing for his phone. “Just gonna check something.”

Dick leaned over the back of the couch. “What is it?”

“I haven't seen the movie in the while.” Wally typed something into his phone. “Just looking up a synopsis.” He paused, frowning. “Yep. Thought so. Sorry. Let's pick another movie.”

“Rape scene?” Dick asked bluntly.

“It happens offscreen, but it's pretty obvious.” Wally put his phone away. “Sorry I didn't realise before we put it on.”

“It's okay,” Dick assured him. “I'm just glad you picked up on it before it happened.”

Wally darted to the shelf of DVDs. “Maybe we should pick a different style of movie. Just to be safe.”

Yeah, this had definitely ruined Dick's taste for bad action films for the moment. They sifted through the discs for while but nothing really caught their eye.

“We could always hook your laptop to the TV and watch baby animal videos,” Wally said, sitting back on his heels.

“There's probably something on TV at this hour,” Dick said, getting up. “Like bad reality TV. Or animal planet or the discovery channel or something.”

“I can't believe I didn't think of that.” Wally surged to his feet and zipped to the remote. Dick purposely took his sweet time getting over to the couch, just to be a pain.

“Okay, one mere mortal sitting down.”

Wally snorted. “Drama queen.” He flicked through and found the discovery channel. Mythbusters reruns. Awesome.

Barry came back just as they'd settled in. “Had to take the car,” he said, placing a bunch of plastic bags on the coffee table. “I could've tried to run everything home, but we would've lost half of it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wally fished out a box of fried rice and passed that to Dick before picking something out for himself. “Keep telling us how you suck.”

“Little shit,” Barry muttered fondly, grabbing his own box. “What're we watching?”

“People blowing shit up for science,” Dick replied. “Wally remembered the movie had some questionable stuff in it.”

“Ah, hell. Sorry about that.”

Dick waved his apology away. “It's fine. No harm done. Wally caught it in time.”

Barry let it go, but he still looked rather ashamed of himself. He wasn't equipped to handle Dick's situation, or to face Bruce's wrath if he slipped up. But Wally had more practice with that, at least, so Dick didn't feel quite as bad about imposing on his family as he would have otherwise. Some of the guilt was still there, of course. That wasn't going away any time soon. All he could do was try not to hate himself for it or let it colour his behaviour too much.

Iris arrived home partway through the second episode. She collapsed onto the couch and grabbed the nearest box of food. Dick had already given up on his fried rice at that point.

“How are you feeling today, Dick?” Iris asked once she'd demolished half the box.

“Better now that I'm out of the manor,” Dick replied, watching the hosts retreat into a bunker to prepare for an explosion.

“Good to hear.”

The explosives went off, though they were a little bit of a letdown. “Eh. I've died in bigger explosions than that.”

Wally tried very hard to hold back a laugh, eventually strangling it into a snort. “ _Dick_. Oh my God.”

Barry grabbed another box of food. “I'm not touching that one.”

Iris, for her part, just sighed at the whole exchange.

The crew on the show reset, and the second explosion was much more impressive. A few months ago, even watching a controlled explosion might've been too much for Dick, but right now he had other things to worry about. Everything that had happened with the Joker was relegated to a quiet corner in his mind. It'd probably start bothering him again at some point—that shit always came back to haunt him—but, for now, the child traffickers on the loose in Gotham occupied far more of his attention than the past actions of a person who was safely behind bars for the time being. The Joker would probably break out again in the future, so the brief reprieve was welcome. Dick didn't need that shit piling on top of everything else he had to worry about.

Iris had to be up at the crack of dawn the next morning, so she went to bed early. Barry dashed off to deal with a burning skyscraper, leaving Dick and Wally to finish out the Mythbusters marathon by themselves. Dick had seen the rest of the episodes before so he rested his head on Wally's shoulder and tried not to fall asleep.

As the credits ran on the last episode, Wally turned off the TV. “Hey, so it's getting kind of late and you look wrecked.”

“Hmm?” Dick lifted his head.

“Wanna go to bed?”

“Mm. I guess.” Dick wasn't sure how he'd go with sleeping tonight. He felt better here than he had in Gotham, but that didn't necessarily mean he'd be nightmare-free.

“Do you want to share the bed or do you want more space?”

Dick felt like cuddles. Lots of them. It was cold tonight, and Wally was always warm.

“Let's try sharing,” Dick replied.

“Okay. I'll set up the air mattress anyway, just in case.” Wally got up and pulled Dick to his feet. “Come on.”

Dick brushed his teeth in the bathroom while Wally sorted out the mattress and got changed. Then they swapped rooms so Dick could change in privacy while Wally took over the bathroom.

It was a relief to finally climb into bed and melt into Wally's arms. Dick lay on the wall side of the bed, deciding the risk of feeling trapped was preferable to feeling exposed if he took the side nearer to the door. Wally's body heat quickly chased away the chill.

Wally gently brushed Dick's fringe aside. “Do you need more blankets?”

“I think I'm okay.” Wally's arms around him made him feel secure without needing the extra weight.

“All right. We forgot your weighted blanket. I'll get someone to grab it tomorrow.”

“I forgot I had it,” Dick replied.

Wally chuckled. “I think we all did. No matter. I'll make sure we don't forget it again.”

“You're too good to me.”

Wally rubbed his nose against Dick's. “Never.”

The sound that came out of Dick's mouth was absolutely not a giggle. It _was not_. Wally _aww_ ed at him, so Dick stuck his cold feet on his legs.

“Jesus Christ! How are you still cold?” Wally rolled out of bed and threw the first pair of socks he could find at him. “Put something on them, for God's sake.”

Dick cackled, pulling the socks on as quickly as he could because _damn_ it was cold. Wally climbed back into bed and they resumed their cuddling.

Wally kissed his forehead. “You're ridiculous.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“We've reached that point in the evening already?” Wally buried his face in Dick's hair. “Oh fucking Christ. Here we go.”

Dick tucked his head under Wally's chin, feeling the gentle tremors of the laughter Wally was trying so hard to suppress. Dick kissed his collarbone through his thin t-shirt. How was he not freezing in this weather?

Wally slowly rubbed his palms up and down Dick's back. It was so easy to just relax and let the gentle motion lull him into a doze. He felt Wally's lips on his scalp for a brief moment.

“Love you,” Wally murmured. Dick hummed in response, and fell into sleep mere moments later.

 


	29. Ducks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, they should've tried duck therapy sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussion and recollection of the sexual assault of minors, thoughts of self-harm, panic reactions, flashbacks, vomiting.
> 
> I have a performance on Saturday and rehearsals are picking up, so I'm not sure I'll be able to get another chapter out before then.

Dick woke on Wally's chest come morning, his boyfriend's fingers trickling through his hair.

“'Morning babe.” Wally's voice was gravelly from sleep. Dick couldn't suppress a grin. “Sleep well?”

“Mm-hm.” Dick closed his eyes, not quite ready to get up yet. He was happy here.

Wally stroked down Dick's neck to his shoulderblade, his palm settling there. “No dreams?”

“None.”

“Awesome.” Wally's free arm wrapped securely around Dick's waist. “Hungry?”

“Not really. You?”

“I can wait. It's cuddle time.”

“You're such a dork.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“True.” Dick sat up a little, hands splayed on Wally's chest. “How's my breath?” He blew a gust towards Wally's face.

“Terrible.” Wally blew one back. “How's mine?”

“Also terrible.” Dick leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. “So I guess we're even.”

Wally smirked up at him. “Hm, I don't know. Better kiss me again, just to make sure.”

“If you insist.” Dick caught his lips again. Wally squeezed him in close, deepening the kiss. A shudder of glee rippled through Dick's body and he grabbed fistfuls of Wally's shirt. The kiss went on, and Dick couldn't remember the last time they'd been together like this. Sure, it was a little bit gross since they'd just woken up and both had morning breath, but it certainly wasn't the grossest thing Dick had willingly done. And the closeness was worth it.

They broke the kiss, trying not to breathe on each other too much. Dick lost track of how long they watched each other. Wally had a half-completed grin on his face, like he'd forgotten how to move his face. Dick slowly let go of Wally's shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles without looking at them. The morning light filtered through the window, catching in the green of Wally's eyes, sparkling like dew-kissed leaves. Wally blinked. Once. Twice. Then he completed the grin, and Dick returned it.

Then Wally sat up, gently shifting Dick to the side. “Okay, definitely hungry now.”

Dick snorted. “Way to kill the mood.”

Wally threw the bedcovers back, leaving the pair exposed to the cold air. “That's what I'm here for, babe.” He got out of bed and stepped into his slippers.

Dick pulled the covers back over himself. “Ugh, throw me a sweater. It's freezing.” Wally dropped one on his face. “Thanks.”

“You're such a baby in the morning.”

Dick pulled on the sweater and rolled out of bed, landing on his feet without effort. “Isn't that why you call me 'babe' all the time?”

“It is now.”

They headed down the hallway and had almost reached the kitchen when Dick heard Barry talking.

“Nah, he's been fine,” said Barry. Dick pulled Wally to a halt just around the corner. “Really cheerful, actually. If I didn't already know, I never would've guessed he'd tried to kill himself a week ago. Yeah, Wally'll keep an eye on him and I'll drop by at lunch. Honestly, I don't think we've got much to worry about. He even cracked a joke about getting, uh, blown up last night. I didn't know what to do, but he seemed to enjoy himself so I guess it was okay.”

Dick chose that moment to come around the corner. “'Morning, Barry.”

Barry covered the mouthpiece of the landline phone. “Hey, kid. Sleep well?”

“Like a log,” Dick replied brightly. “If logs slept.”

“Oh, here we go,” Wally muttered. “I'm not sure I missed you unique command of the English language.”

“Of course you did.”

Barry chose to ignore the exchange, holding the phone out. “Bruce wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks.” Dick took the phone. Wally filled up a plate with bacon and eggs. It didn't look especially appetising to Dick, but he supposed he could have a few bites and then maybe have some of the Crocky Crunch cereal he could see in the cupboard. He hadn't had that stuff in years, not since Bruce and Alfred had collectively put their foot down and removed all traces of it from the house. It was nothing but sugar and happiness, so of course Bruce in particular couldn't stand it.

“How are you today?” came Bruce's voice over the fine.

“Cold, but otherwise peachy,” Dick replied. “You?”

Bruce's voice filled with amusement. “I'm well. How'd you sleep?”

“Nightmare-free. It was exciting. Except not. Because I was asleep and didn't realise it was something to be excited about until I woke up this morning.”

Wally choked on a mouthful of water. Barry thumped him on the back.

“Oops,” Dick said. “Nearly killed Wally.”

Bruce sighed, just like Alfred did. Well, the man had raised him.

“So, what's new?” Dick asked. “How's everyone at home?”

“Alfred's the way he always is,” Bruce replied. “Jason is quiet.”

“That's pretty much his natural state at the moment.” It wasn't good. If Dick didn't have his own problems, he probably would've tried doing something about it himself. After their last conversation about it all, though, he wasn't keen to try again.

“I know. He wasn't interested in talking yesterday, but I'll try again today. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. You'll need it.” Maybe Jason would be more willing to open up without Dick around? He doubted it. But there was always a chance.

“Thanks. Did you watch the news last night?”

Dick came very close to snapping at him, but he took a deep breath and swallowed it down. “Bruce. You know I've been avoiding that crap for _very obvious reasons_.”

Wally frowned at the phone. “Is he talking shit again?”

“No, he just asked a question,” Dick replied, covering the mouthpiece. “A question he should _know the answer to_ , but whatever.” He spoke into the phone again, “Why'd you ask anyway?”

“There's been a development in the case.” Bruce didn't sound all that happy about it.

What was left of Dick's good mood melted away. “All right.” He sighed. “Lay it on me.”

“Commissioner Gordon has been accused of corruption,” Bruce said plainly. “The evidence supposedly came from the files we decoded, but I know those files inside-out. There's nothing in there to suggest the Commissioner was involved in allowing the court case to fail. Someone along the chain of evidence falsified the information.”

“So Skinner's got friends in the police department. Wonderful.” How many of the officers who took part in the rescue had been in that man's pocket the whole time? Dick had trusted everyone there, but now the thought of what could've happened to him and the other children sent a chill down his spine.

“Let me deal with that,” Bruce said. “I've been talking with Barbara. She wants to organise a rally to support him. She's already got the Commissioner's most trusted officers on board. I'm sure they'd appreciate your presence if you feel up to attending.”

“I'll manage,” Dick replied. “Gordon's not going down over this if I can help it.”

“Dick, I'll take care of it. You just need to take care of yourself.”

“I'm not made of glass, Bruce.”

“I know. You've shown remarkable strength so far.”

Dick snorted, because if he didn't laugh he'd probably start crying instead. “That's cute.”

He could feel Bruce's glare through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah. You were trying to be nice. I get it. Can we stop talking about this before the knives start looking too friendly again?”

Bruce's voice filled with alarm. “Are you all right?”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “I think so. I just... can't talk about this anymore. Let me know when there's a date for the rally.”

“Make sure someone's with you all day.”

“Now where's the fun in that?”

“Dick.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was joking. Now go do something. One of us has to be useful today, and it's not going to be me.”

“I'll call tonight.”

“You do that. Bye.” Dick passed the phone back to Barry, who hung up after a brief conversation Dick didn't listen to. He poured himself a bowl of the Crocky Crunch cereal. It was even more sugary than he remembered. He braced himself for the customary nausea that came whenever he had more than a few bites of anything, but it never showed.

Wally finished eating and cleared his cutlery away immediately, not that the little knife he'd been using would've done much if Dick had wanted to hurt himself. The thought was still appreciated.

“So, what happened?” Wally asked, rinsing the knife off in the sink and putting it away.

Dick finished his last mouthful of cereal and pushed the bowl away. “Someone in the GCPD messed with that jury-tampering data to incriminate Gordon. I don't know the details. Honestly, I don't want to know.” His temples were starting to throb; he pressed his fingers against them. “It's bad enough knowing Skinner's got friends in the GCPD.”

Wally put a glass of water down in front of him. “Drink.”

Dick took a few sips, but he was starting to feel ill.

“I can call in sick to work if you need someone else around,” Barry offered.

“God, no,” Dick replied.

“We've got other people we can call,” Wally added. He rested his palm on Dick's back. “Dinah and Alfred should be available, and probably Bruce if it comes to that.”

Barry looked pained. “ _Yeah_ , I don't feel comfortable with this.”

“Bruce knows you're going to work,” Dick said. “He would've said something if he wasn't okay with that.”

“Exactly how long were you eavesdropping?”

“Not long.” Dick shrugged. “I got curious.”

Barry sighed. “Sometimes I forget you're Batman's kid.” He grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate on the centre of the table. “All right. You've made your point. I'll be back for lunch. Don't burn the house down.”

“No promises,” Wally replied. “Have fun.”

Barry ruffled both boys' hair on his way out.

Wally brushed his thumb against the back of Dick's neck. “I thought he'd never leave. You okay after eating that much?”

“Yeah, actually.” Nobody was more surprised by that than Dick. “It's weird.”

“Please don't start bouncing off the walls. I'm pretty sure that stuff should be considered a biohazard.”

Dick snorted. “Wow. I don't think I've ever heard you complain about food having _too much_ sugar before.”

“I've seen what happens when you have too much sugar, babe. I don't want to repeat the experience.”

“That was one time. And I was eleven. And it was your fault in the first place.”

“Was not!”

“Bruce banned you from the manor for a month,” Dick reminded him. “And Alfred wouldn't give me candy again for at least two.”

“Well, it is kind of your fault for thinking you could out-snack me.”

“You let the eleven-year-old consume his weight in sugar, dude. Neither of us came out of that one looking pretty.”

“Excuse you,” Wally said with mock offense. “I always look pretty.”

“Now that you're past the awkward puberty phase, you mean.”

“And you're still in it, so ha.”

“Yeah, but the awkward puberty look is adorable on me.”

“All right, I can't argue with that.” Wally pinched his cheek. Dick half-heartedly swatted at him. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don't know. Maybe rest for a bit. I'm still a bit... you know. From earlier.” He wasn't feeling too bad overall, but he could feel the darkness sitting in the back of his mind, ready to roll back in at any moment. He was right on the borderline between 'okay' and 'really super not okay'.

“Okay.” Wally helped him up. “Couch or bed?”

“Bed.” The front door would freak him out too much when he was trying to rest. Wally led him back to his room and very charitably let Dick lie on top of him again, draping his arms around the younger boy's waist. Dick didn't quite feel like sleeping, having only just woken up a short while ago. He just needed to recharge after Bruce's news. Then he'd be okay. Probably.

“You should stop growing,” Wally said out of the blue.

Dick snorted. “No.”

“You're gonna get too heavy to lie on me like this, and then we'll both be sad.”

“A small price to pay for getting taken more seriously in life, I guess.” Dick wriggled into a more comfortable position, accidentally jamming a knee into Wally's thigh. “Oops. Sorry. But look at me. Criminals laugh at me. It's rude.”

“Maybe it's just revenge for all the times you laughed at them.”

“I wouldn't have laughed if they weren't all so ridiculous.”

“Yeah, Gotham rogues are pretty ridiculous. What the hell is up with that place? Like, you have a villain called the Condiment King who literally attacks people with sauce. Is there something in the water? Shit, there probably is.”

“Hey, don't insult my home. Gotham might be a corrupt shithole of a city, but it's _my_ corrupt shithole of a city.”

“I don't know if that's funny or sad.”

“Ass,” Dick muttered fondly.

“Maybe I am, but you still live in the worst city in America.”

“Well, apparently people from Central City don't have any manners, but you don't hear me going on about it.”

“I'm gonna need some ice for that burn, babe. And my leg's falling asleep.”

Dick rolled off him and the bed, landing on his feet. He didn't really want to keep lying down anyway. He wanted to do stuff. He just wasn't sure what that stuff was yet.

Wally sat up, stretching out his leg. “That better not be the sugar rush kicking in.”

“I don't know. I'm bored.”

“Oh, Christ. Here we go.”

“Wally, you're underestimating me. Come on, dude. I'm not eleven anymore.” His attention flicked away from his mild offense. “We should do something.”

“Nothing that would give Bruce a heart attack,” Wally warned. “Even if it was your idea, he'd still blame me.”

“We should go outside.”

“Bruce is gonna stab me.”

“It's not Gotham, and barely anyone knows I'm here.” Dick stepped into his shoes. “I haven't been outside just because I want to in a long time. It's so green out there. Have you ever noticed how green this city is? It's weird.”

“You're just used to Gotham, babe.” Wally begrudgingly got up and found his own pair of shoes. “There's a park a few blocks away if you really want to go out. But I'm telling Barry and _you_ get to tell Bruce.”

“Okay.” Dick grabbed his phone off the bedside table and shot off a text. Wally took his sweet time doing the same.

Bruce texted back that he'd let them go, provided Dick kept him updated on an hourly basis until they returned. It was a fair request, if a touch stifling.

“Bruce is freaking out but he said we could go,” Dick told Wally.

“Barry's freaking out that Bruce is gonna freak out,” Wally replied, sending off another text. “He'll calm down now that Bruce gave the okay.”

“Sweet. Let's go.” Dick dragged Wally out of the room.

Wally laughed at his behaviour. “This is so weird.”

Dick grabbed the spare house keys from the hook beside the front door and stepped outside, locking the door behind the both of them. Wally took the keys and stuffed them into his pocket.

Dick didn't feel all that different until they'd walked down the street and around the corner, the house vanishing from sight. Then, a new feeling hit him, like he was a helium balloon set free into the sky with no hand to stop him from floating away. He had to stop. Take a few deep breaths.

“We can go back,” Wally offered.

“I'm okay. It's just weird.” Dick reached for Wally's hand again. He could do this. They weren't in Gotham anymore. Crime did happen here, but it didn't have Gotham's mean streak.

Wally squeezed his hand, smiling gently down at him. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

They walked the remaining few blocks to the park. Children's laughter rippled through the air as the swingset in the playground squeaked back and forth. Dick had fond memories of flipping off a swing at the apex of its rotation and scaring the shit out of Alfred, who had yet to get used to having a tiny acrobat in the family.

They passed the playground, full of children, the little ones watched closely by their parents while the older ones played more freely as their parents chatted calmly on the park benches. No one spared Dick and Wally more than a passing glance.

“Did you want to see the duck pond?” Wally asked. “I should have some money for the birdseed machine.” He dug into his pockets while they headed for the pond, producing a handful of coins by the time they got there.

Dick knelt by the water, cold seeping through the knees of his jeans. A few ducks paddled around in the water, some trailed by a line of ducklings. He started a little when Wally put a bag of seed in front of his face, but recovered quickly and took the bag. Wally didn't comment on it.

Dick sprinkled some of the seed and backed up to a respectful distance. A few ducks near the edge of the water waddled over to inspect his offering. Apparently satisfied, they started to snatch up the scattered seed, and Dick tossed a little more in their direction. He sat on the grass with Wally, leaning into his shoulder.

The noise from the playground was barely audible now, easily overpowered by the gentle splashes of ducks hopping in and out of the water, ducking their heads below the surface. One of the mother ducks came over for some seed, her babies trailing behind her. Dick tossed a little more in her direction, trying not to startle her. She left quickly after getting her fill, which was probably smart of her. Humans didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to nature, which Poison Ivy was more than willing to remind people.

The birdseed slowly dwindled as ducks came and went. Neither of the boys felt like moving. Dick felt calmer than he expected when he'd left the house today. He could barely recognise himself. And all it took was a duck pond and some birdseed. And Wally, of course, but that went without saying.

After a while, Wally's phone went off and he scrambled to answer it before the ducks decided to fly away. “Yeah, Barry? We're still at the park. The duck pond. Okay, I'll ask.” Wally covered the phone. “Barry's about to head out for lunch. He said he could get some fish and chips and bring it here.”

“Sure. Make sure he doesn't get me too much, though.”

“Fish and chips are a go,” Wally said into the phone. “Get enough for you and me, and maybe some extra chips. Even if Dick doesn't eat them, one of us will. Okay. See you in a few. Bye.” He hung up. “Wanna go find a table?”

“Not really.” Dick didn't feel like leaving the ducks yet. “Five more minutes?”

“Okay.” Wally's hand was starting to get cold, but it felt warm clasped around Dick's icy one. He'd forgotten to pack gloves, and Wally hadn't thought to bring any of his own, either.

The five minutes passed and the pair slowly picked themselves up off the grass, brushing themselves free of lingering foliage. Their fingers came away wet and littered with plantlife.

As they headed for the nearest set of picnic tables, a small, snowy fluff-ball of a dog came barrelling towards them. Dick knelt down and scratched it behind the ears.

“Hey, buddy,” he said brightly. “Where's your owner?”

The dog licked his fingers in response. A child's voice cut through the ear, and the dog's ears twitched.

“That's them, isn't it?” said Dick. “You got cheeky and escaped, didn't you?”

The kid in question came running over. “Snowball!”

Snowball yapped happily at the kid and scampered over to her. They both ran off, the kid waving her thanks.

Wally snorted. “Snowball.”

“Love it.”

They found the tables and claimed one on the outskirts of the picnic area. They didn't have to wait long for Barry to show up, arms full of pale paper packages.

“My two favourite troublemakers,” Barry said, dumping the packages on the table. “Dig in. Try to leave some for me.”

“No promises,” Wally said, ripping open the paper. He and Barry gobbled up most of the food. Dick snagged a few chips and a bite of Wally's fish, but he wasn't very hungry.

“So what'd you two get up to after I left you alone against my better judgement?”

“Dick wanted to rest but ended up talking my ear off the whole time,” Wally replied. “And then we came here and fed ducks. Oh, and we made friends with a dog called Snowball.”

“What's this 'we' business?” Dick replied, shoving a chip into Wally's mouth. “You just stood there while I gave Snowball the attention he obviously deserved. Then you made fun of his name.”

“You two seemed pretty happy together. I didn't want to intrude.”

“Oh, be still my beating heart.” Dick ate one last chip before giving up on the idea of lunch. “Or maybe not. That'd be bad.”

Wally stuffed the rest of his fish into his mouth instead of trying to come up with a response. Barry shrugged and did the same. Mouth still full, he checked his phone and rolled his eyes.

He swallowed. “Bruce is pestering me for an update on you.”

“I just texted him to let him know I'm still alive,” Dick replied.

“Yeah, he said that.” Barry scrolled the phone screen with his thumb. “He wants to know how you're holding up.”

“I'm good. Really calm, actually. We should've tried duck-feeding therapy sooner.”

“Okay.” Barry punched in a message and sent it off.

“He's probably gonna try putting a duck pond on the manor grounds,” Wally said. “And then he'll be offended no ducks want to live there.”

“Maybe I'll ask for a puppy instead, just to see the look on his face.”

“If you tell him you want to train it as a service animal for your PTSD, he'd probably cave,” Wally said.

“Somebody's been doing their research.”

Wally shrugged. “I was looking up ways to help you out. You know what the internet's like.”

“Yeah, you fell down the rabbit hole. With no influence from the Mad Hatter, fortunately.” Dick wiped his fingers on a napkin Barry had brought. “It's a nice idea, but being responsible for another living thing would probably stress me out too much at this point.”

“Totally understandable.”

“But thanks for thinking of me.”

“Always am,” Wally said flippantly, but Dick didn't miss the intensity in his eyes. He probably wouldn't have bothered hiding it at all if they'd been alone.

Dick lightly punched his shoulder. “Softy.”

Barry hummed loudly and fiddled with his phone until the moment had passed. He and Wally polished off the food and tossed the wrappers away.

“I better get back to work,” Barry said. “Are you two okay by yourselves?”

Both boys nodded.

“Okay. Don't stay out too late. Bruce'll hunt me down if I let you two stay out after dark.”

“We'll be home soon, I think,” Wally replied.

“Yeah, my nose is gonna freeze off if we're out here much longer,” Dick added. “See you tonight.”

“All right. See ya.” Barry headed off.

“Did you want to stick around?” Wally asked Dick.

“No, I'm ready to go.”

“Okay, then. Let's go home.”

They walked back to Barry and Iris's house hand-in-hand. Dick occasionally startled at sudden noises like he usually did, but he calmed down quicker afterwards. He still watched the people they passed, but he didn't feel like he had to scan their faces for defining features and try to match them up with the countless clients in the child trafficking operation. That said, though, he was relieved when they finally stepped inside and Wally switched on the heater.

The living room warmed up first. The pair huddled under a blanket on the couch, cartoon reruns playing on the TV in the background. The boys were joined by the lips, eyes closed, ignoring everything outside their own little sphere of each other. They slowly lay against the couch, Wally on his back and Dick resting on top of him. Wally's fingers tickled against Dick's ribs.

They were pressed right up against each other, tongues sliding together, and despite everything, Dick felt his body start to respond. And he didn't know what to do about that. He hadn't felt any kind of urges like that for a long time. Even before his abduction, the feelings had been limited, and recent events had chased away what little desire he had been experiencing up to that point.

His brain took a few moments to register what was happening. As soon as it hit him, he charged backwards and slammed none too gently against the arm of the couch.

Wally sat up. “What's up? You okay?”

Dick could barely move, let alone speak. He was still semi-covered by the blanket, at least.

Wally figured it all out pretty quickly, despite Dick not being able to help him. “Oh. Okay. I'm gonna get some water. I'll be back in a minute.” He hopped off the couch and went into the kitchen.

Dick's body uncoiled from its tense position in the corner of the couch. He took the out Wally had offered him to escape to the bathroom and splash half a dozen handfuls of frigid water across his face. It clung to the edges of his hair, dripped off his nose and chin. A sick feeling was gathering in the pit of his stomach. Nausea quickly followed, and he threw up into the sink. He held himself up on trembling arms, knuckles stretched and white against the porcelain.

Luke was there. In his mind. He didn't want him there. He was supposed to be safe in this place. He was supposed to be free from Luke and Skinner and everyone else. But he wasn't. He could almost feel Luke's hands on him, coaxing unwanted feelings out of his body.

Dick threw up again, every muscle in his abdomen contracting painfully. He retched another time, but there was only liquid left.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Dick? You okay in there?”

Dick ran the tap to rinse away the vomit. He didn't know if he could talk yet. As much as he didn't want to move, he approached the door and tapped out a morse code request for privacy against the wood. He needed more time.

“I'll be nearby,” Wally said through the door. Fading footsteps followed. Dick sank to the floor. His wrists screamed out for something sharp. He didn't want to give in. He knew there was nothing sharp in the room, for precisely this reason. But he couldn't help but stare up at the mirror. He knew exactly how much force it would take to break it, force which would bust his knuckles open as the mirror shattered. He couldn't do that. He couldn't. This wasn't his house. He was a guest here. He couldn't wreck their furniture just because he couldn't control himself.

He wasn't ready to be near anyone, but he couldn't be alone right now either. Not with the mirror staring at him like that.

Still queasy, he pulled himself to his feet by the doorknob and staggered out of the bathroom. Wally was leaning against his bedroom's doorframe nearby.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

Dick shook his head, one hand resting on his stomach. He needed to explain, but talking didn't seem like such a good idea with the acid sitting high in his throat.

Wally brought him back to the living room, hovering close but not touching. Dick couldn't handle touching yet.

“Do you want the blanket?” Wally asked. “I can get rid of it if it's gonna bother you.”

It was just a blanket. Dick pinched it between two fingers. Just a blanket. Just a piece of material designed to keep people warm. He sat down on the couch and wrapped it around himself. Wally, careful not to touch him directly, tidied it a little.

“I'll get you some water.” He was in and out of the kitchen in seconds. The water cleared the bad taste from Dick's mouth, but not completely. He curled up around a previously discarded throw pillow while Wally found something to watch other than the cartoons that had been playing in the background of this entire fiasco. He found a documentary about space that was practically guaranteed to be free of anything that could make Dick feel worse than he already did. Dick didn't follow the information presented in the show very well, but the images were comforting to look at. Galactic swirls streaking through black. Plumes of nebulas nestled in interstellar mist. Even the asteroids—little more than enormous rocks floating in the abyss—soothed something inside him.

Despite humanity's endless curiosity about the places beyond the earth's atmosphere, sheer distance and current levels of technology meant most of those places remained untouched by human hands. There were whole worlds out there that had never been spoiled by humanity's endless capacity for destruction, for violence.

Everything around Dick was poisoned by what Skinner and his people had done to him, even this far away from Gotham City. He couldn't escape it. But the thought that there were places where maybe this _thing_ tethering Dick to them could snap and fall away... it helped, if only a little.

Wally was quiet until the end of the documentary. He picked up the remote, but didn't use it.

“Hey,” he said. “Do you feel up to talking about what happened?”

“I thought it was self-explanatory,” Dick replied. He didn't know if he could find the words to explain it if Wally hadn't already figured it out.

“Yeah, it was.” Wally muted the TV. “If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. Just thought I'd ask.”

Dick was still a bit wound up, but the documentary had help him calm down the tiniest bit. Maybe it was enough.

“You know,” he said slowly, “I haven't felt really any, uh... shit. Okay. Words.”

“You're doing fine,” Wally reassured him. “Take your time.”

Dick dug the words out of his brain. “So, I like you, right?”

“I'm aware,” Wally said lightly.

“Okay, so like, I've had crushes on people before. No stranger to that. But I've never really felt, you know, the physical stuff.” This was weird to talk about. “Maybe it's because I died and came back at an age when a lot of those feelings are developing. Or because of what Skinner and his asshole friends did not long after that. Maybe I'm a late bloomer. Or it's just who I am. I don't know.”

“Some people are just like that,” Wally replied. “There's even a word for people who only feel sexual attraction to people they've developed a close bond with.”

“Yeah, demisexual. I just don't know if it fits me.” It didn't quite click with him the way 'pansexual' had when he'd found that word. It was possible to have a different romantic orientation, so he could've been both demisexual and panromantic, but it didn't feel quite right. “I mean, Zatanna and I were together for a while and nothing sexual really developed between us but I don't know if it was because we were thirteen or because we needed more time or because that's just the way things were between us. Or whatever. Maybe it would've happened if we'd stayed together longer, but I can't say for sure.”

“But you're feeling that with me?” Wally asked.

Dick nodded. “It's been in the back of my head for a while. And like, I experimented a little by myself before the whole dying thing, but I haven't really been interested in it since.”

“Fair enough.”

Dick rested his head on the throw pillow. Wally winced at the level of his contortion, but he found it pretty comfortable.

“The last time I had a physical reaction like today was with somebody I didn't want touching me,” he said quietly.

“Luke,” Wally muttered.

“I don't know how to get past that.”

“There's no rush,” Wally assured him. “Plenty of people in relationships don't have sex.”

“Sure, but that's their choice.” Dick buried his face in the pillow. “I didn't choose to be like this. I freak out every time we even get remotely sexual. I'm tired of everything I do or feel being dictated by those bastards.”

“I know, babe.”

“This is my body. Mine. I've trained to control even the tiniest movements and reactions. I should've been able to stop it from—”

Wally held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down.”

“It's just—this shouldn't be a fucking issue.”

“Yeah, because you never should've been put in that position to start with,” Wally replied heatedly. “But it happened. It's not your fault. You'd be saying the same thing to me if our positions were reversed.”

“Yeah, I know.” This pillow was nice. He was going to keep his face pressed into it for now. “But I... I don't like thinking there's nothing I could've done to stop this. I don't like feeling helpless.” Everyone around him was constantly telling him none of this was his fault. It was comforting at first, but he inevitably slid backwards when the conversation was over. The choice between pretending he had some agency in this situation or accepting his own helplessness was not an easy one. Sometimes feigning ignorance was preferable to the harsh reality.

“I don't blame you,” Wally replied. “But, look. How many times have you pulled Batman's ass out of the fire? The guy's a certified badass, but even he needs a helping hand from time-to-time. So you couldn't take Skinner's organisation down by yourself. Who could? You did everything in your power to keep yourself and the others safe. I know you didn't do as much as you wanted, but that doesn't make you any less of a badass.”

Dick rolled onto his back, freeing his legs from the blanket and resting them on Wally's lap. “I appreciate what you're trying to do.”

“But?”

“I'm struggling with this,” Dick admitted. “I don't like losing control of things. Does blaming myself hurt? Yes. It fucking kills me sometimes. But the alternative isn't any better.”

“And what's the alternative?”

“Accepting I have no control over what was done to me, what was done to the other kids, or even how my body and mind react now that I'm away from it.” Dick watched a small spider scurry across the ceiling; it was easier than making eye contact.

“At least it's honest,” Wally replied.

“Honesty's overrated.”

“Careful, babe. You'll hurt its feelings.”

Despite his dark mood, Dick laughed a little. “Sorry, honesty.”

“That's better.” Wally patted his foot. Dick didn't mind the contact; he had initiated it when he'd stuck his feet in Wally's lap. “There are things you can control, though.”

“Such as...?”

“Where you sleep. Whether you're going to that rally for Commissioner Gordon. Whether you'll testify at the new trial when we finally get one. What to do for your birthday. Whether you want to listen to me or tell me to piss off. Loads of stuff.”

“Little things,” Dick muttered.

“Little things can add up, babe.”

“I don't know if I can do this.” It hadn't always been clear to him why he couldn't fully accept everyone telling him he wasn't to blame for anything that had happened, but he got it now. It was just another in a long list of things he had done in an attempt to regain some control over the situation, over himself. He didn't know how to break that pattern, or if he even wanted to.

“You're acknowledging it,” Wally said gently. “That's a good start. Take as much time as you need to do the rest. You've got some good people in your corner. We're all gonna do everything we can to help you.”

That was comforting. Dick managed to smile a little up at him. “I love you, Wally.”

“I love you, too.” Wally's eyes were soft. “I'm here for you. Whatever you need.”

Dick didn't know what he'd done to deserve him, but it must've been freaking amazing. The stress was still there, tying knots in his stomach, but he felt better. Maybe one day he could recover from this. That day was a long way off, but it could come. He just needed to remember that on the bad days.

“You'll get through this,” Wally promised. “I'll keep reminding you it's not your fault. It'll sink in eventually. And, well, as for the sex thing... no pressure. You'll be ready when you're ready. You don't need to justify that or push yourself further than you're comfortable with.”

“Thank you.”

The worst was over for today. Dick expected a heavy serving of nightmares later, which wasn't all that different from normal. He'd deal with it. He felt much better-equipped to handle all the bad thoughts that regularly took up residence in his head. Being here was good for him. He only hoped going back to Gotham for the weekdays wouldn't set him back again.


	30. Elephant Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick returns to Gotham for the weekday. Barbara requests an audience with Batman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am alive. I want to get at least one more chapter out before I go back to school. Because school is hell and I can't wait for the year to be over. Unrelated sidenote: I've written a couple of original novels (never published) and, as of this chapter, this fic is now the same length as my first-ever novel (147k). Ah, nostalgia.
> 
> Dick has some hypervigilance issues in this chapter. His suicide attempt isn't explicitly mentioned, but it's implied. TW for discussion of the sexual assault of minors. Also some issues with food and weight.

Alfred stocked up on the Crocky Crunch cereal when it became apparent Dick's ability to eat it wasn't just a fluke. The man hated the stuff with a burning passion, but he'd agreed to let it back into the family's pantries since eating something terrible was better than eating nothing.

Dick was on edge the instant he stepped through the zeta tube to the bunker beneath Wayne Enterprises, Wally's parting kiss against his forehead already a fading memory. Bruce was waiting for him by the elevator.

“How was your weekend?” he asked, pressing the button to summon it.

“It had its ups and downs,” Dick replied, “but overall it was pretty good.”

The elevator arrived and they stepped inside. Dick wasn't a fan of being trapped inside a metal box suspended over a mass of empty space.

“Dinah's coming this afternoon,” Bruce told him. “She wants to see how you're doing.”

“Fair enough.” Dick watched the numbers rise, much slower than he would've liked.

“Lucius might join us for lunch if that's okay with you.”

“Sure.” Lucius was trustworthy, and Dick hadn't seen him in a while.

“Barbara wants to meet Batman tonight.”

“And?”

“Would you like to come?”

“I guess. Does Dinah know you're asking me?”

“Not yet.”

“Might wanna mention it, you know, in case she thinks it's the worst idea she's ever heard. Which she probably will.”

“All the more reason to go through with it.”

Dick snorted. “You're awful.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the penthouse. Alfred was straightening some photo frames on the wall.

“Good morning, Master Dick. How are you?”

“I could've done without the ride in a metal box dangling over the endless abyss, but otherwise I'm fine.”

“Naturally, sir.” He stepped back from the last photo frame, inspecting his handiwork. “Would you like me to take your bag?”

“I guess. I need to give you my chargers anyway.”

Alfred took the bag from Dick's shoulder and brought it to one of the bedrooms. He quickly extracted the chargers, earphones and Nightwing equipment from the bag and left the rest of the contents for Dick to pack away.

“I took the liberty of bringing some clothes from the manor,” he said. “You will find them in the closet. Where they belong.”

“And I don't,” Dick replied in jest.

“Your wit never ceases to amuse me, sir,” Alfred said dryly. “If you wish to listen to music with your earphones, you may do so in the sitting room.”

“Thanks. I'll be out in a minute.”

Alfred left him to finish unpacking. He only had a few things, having left his civilian clothes at Wally's place. He had his laptop, computer glove, phone, music player sans earphones and a few schoolbooks he hadn't touched during his stay. The sight of them was sickening. He left those at the bottom of the bag and shoved it into the back of the closet.

Alfred was pottering around in the kitchen when Dick entered the living area, separated from the kitchen by a line of counters. The earphones were resting on the coffee table. He plugged them into his music player and loaded a playlist he felt like listening to.

Bruce straightened his tie and grabbed his jacket from the coat-rack by the front door. “Do you need me here?”

“No,” Dick replied. “I'm cool with Alfred. Go do some work for once.”

Bruce ignored the jab. “I'll be back for lunch.”

“You do that.”

Dick stuck his earphones in and blasted his music as loudly as Alfred would allow. He reclined across the black leather couch, having discarded his shoes in his room. He felt a weird tether to them still, like they should've been closer to him. He tried to ignore the feeling. He didn't need to be on guard. Bruce had updated the security on every building he owned and it was daytime. Leaving his shoes in another room put him in absolutely no danger.

He got through two songs before he caved and grabbed his shoes and stuck them within reach under the coffee table. He refused to go as far as putting them on.

Alfred placed a glass of water on the coffee table, startling him. His heart was still pounding a few minutes later and he had to abandon his music to go calm down in his room.

Burrowing under the weighted blanket helped a bit. He lost track of how long he stayed there, but he must have dozed off at some point because the next thing he knew, Alfred was knocking on the door to tell him Bruce and Lucius had arrived for lunch. Dick didn't want to eat, but he'd already agreed to have lunch with them. So he dragged himself out of bed, combed his hair and found another pair of shoes.

Bruce and Lucius were already seated at the end of the table by the time Dick worked up the nerve to leave his room. Alfred had set a place for him.

Lucius smiled up at him. “Hello, Dick.”

“Hi, Lucius.” Dick took his seat opposite the man, beside Bruce.

Alfred brought a platter of sandwiches and a bowl of freshly-tossed salad to the table. Dick still wasn't feeling that great, so he just took some of the salad, which looked easier to stomach.

“How was your morning?” Lucius asked. Dick... didn't want to talk about it.

“It was okay,” he said, trying not to sound too unenthusiastic.

Bruce picked up on his mood and quickly took control of the conversation. “Dick just got back from visiting Wally in Central City. He's politely pretending he's not bored out of his mind up here.”

Lucius chuckled, lifting a sandwich from the platter. “Of course. I've heard a lot about him, Dick. You'll have to introduce me sometime.”

“I'm sure it'll happen eventually,” Dick replied.

“I look forward to it.”

Bruce flattened down the back of Dick's hair, which he'd forgotten to comb in his haste, giving him plenty of time to move away before he made contact. “He'll be coming down for Dick's birthday.”

“I don't really know what's happening with that,” said Dick. “I'd rather you didn't invite everyone in Gotham to the manor.”

“I wouldn't do that to you,” Bruce replied. “Choose a few friends and I'll make some arrangements. Wally mentioned you wanted to invite Barbara and Artemis. Anyone else?”

Dick shrugged. “Not really. We were planning to watch a bunch of movies with some other friends as well, but that's separate from whatever you're cooking up.”

“All right. Alfred and I will figure something out.”

“Okay, but if somebody jumps out of a cake, I'm outta there.”

“There goes my gift,” said Lucius.

“It's the thought that counts.”

Dick managed to eat a few bites of salad. Lucius headed back to work shortly thereafter.

“Aren't you going with him?” Dick asked Bruce.

“In a minute,” Bruce replied. “Are you all right? May I?” Dick nodded, so Bruce checked his temperature with the back of his hand. “You look drained.”

“The PTSD came and said hello. Had to lie down for a bit.”

“I am sorry about that, sir,” Alfred said from the sink, where he was washing the dishes.

“Not your fault, Alfie.”

“I can stay here if you'd feel more comfortable,” Bruce offered.

“I'll manage. Dinah's coming soon, isn't she?”

Bruce checked his watch. “In a few minutes. I'll stay until she arrives.”

Dick let Bruce comb his hair for him. It was weird. Alfred was normally the groomer in the family, and he'd stopped doing it on a regular basis once Dick hit middle school.

The combing only took a minute, but the gentle tugging on his hair and Bruce's free hand resting carefully against his cheek helped restore some of the energy he'd lost that morning.

Dinah arrived when Bruce was retying Dick's laces, despite his half-hearted complaints about not being a five-year-old. The complaints were more for the sake of his dignity than any genuine desire for it to stop.

“Well, now I've seen everything,” Dinah said.

“You really haven't,” Dick replied. “He was combing my hair earlier.” Bruce finished tying. “All right, big guy. Done babying me?”

Bruce flicked his nose. “Mind your manners.”

“Never. Go do your job, unless you're just gonna let Lucius do it all again.”

“I'm going, I'm going.” Bruce ruffled Dick's hair, undoing his own handiwork, and headed out of the apartment.

Alfred left the kitchen and grabbed his coat from the rack. “I have some errands to run. Do call when you are finished. There are tea and biscuits on the counter.”

“Thanks, Alfie.”

“You're welcome, sir.” Alfred grabbed his hat. “Good afternoon, Master Dick, Madame Dinah.” He left the apartment. Dick collected the plate of biscuits and set them on the coffee table while Dinah did the same with the tea tray.

It was strange for Dick to think about, but Bruce's babying had helped him recover from this morning. He felt like he could talk to Dinah without falling apart today, which was just as well. He wanted to run a few things by her.

Dinah poured tea into two cups. “How was your weekend, Dick?”

“Not too bad,” Dick replied, taking one of the cups. “I had some issues but they were easier to deal with than they would've been in Gotham. No nightmares on Saturday night. Bruce told me about Gordon on Sunday morning. That was hard, but I'm okay. Wally and I went to the park and fed some ducks later on. Being outside felt weird, but the feeling went away.”

“I heard about Gordon,” Dinah said. “Did Bruce tell you Barbara's organising a rally for him?”

“Yeah, I'm hoping to be there. Of course, if Bruce and I are there, Batman and Nightwing can't be.”

“Bruce mentioned the two of you were going to meet Barbara tonight.”

“I'm not going on patrol,” Dick clarified. “I'm just going to meet her and then come back. And then go back to Wally's.”

“I understand you'll need to be armed in case of attack,” Dinah said. “It should be okay provided you're with Bruce the whole time.”

“I will be, unless we get in a fight and get separated. Which is unlikely.”

Dinah took a sip of her tea. “All right. Stay out of trouble. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes.” Dick set his teacup down on the coffee table. “Something else happened on the weekend, which wasn't great, but it did make me realise something.”

Dinah pulled out her trusty notepad. “Okay. Talk to me.”

“So Wally and I went home after the park, right? And we had the house to ourselves and I was feeling pretty good so made out a bit. Which was fine. We haven't gotten to do that much lately because human contact is... difficult. But then I kind of...” This was way more awkward than he'd expected it to be. He cleared his throat. “Well, I had a physical reaction and it freaked me out because the last time it happened wasn't exactly... consensual.”

“I see.” Dinah made a short note on her notepad.

“I was pretty freaked out by the whole thing and it took me a while to calm down,” Dick continued. “We watched a TV show about space, which was more helpful that you'd think, really. Then Wally and I talked about it and, well, you know I've been stuck in some kind of self-blame spiral lately. Wally tried to get through to me on that and I think it might've worked a bit this time. Because now I know why I keep backsliding on that. It's a control thing.”

“That makes sense,” Dinah commented. She made another note.

“Like, placing the blame on myself for what happened hurts me, right? But there's an illusion of agency in it. I mean, the truth is there wasn't anything I could've done to save myself or anyone else in that place. But that... I can't deal with that. It was easier to pretend I could've done something.”

“Understanding that is a good step,” Dinah said.

“I don't know how to accept it, though,” Dick admitted. “It's terrifying to think I had no control over the situation. Or even my own body.”

“It is,” Dinah agreed.

“And they still have power over me,” Dick muttered, leaning forward with his elbows digging into his thighs. “More than I have over myself.”

“With help, that should get better over time,” Dinah replied. “It's been less than two months since you escaped. You've come an incredibly long way in that time.”

“That's really not helping, Dinah.” Thinking about a hypothetical day in the future when this shit wouldn't be invading his every waking moment didn't do much for him in the here and now. He also didn't appreciate being reminded how little time had actually passed when it felt like he'd been suffering for an eternity. It was exhausting, even if getting out of Gotham had helped a bit.

“Okay,” Dinah replied. “We can work on the little things in the meantime. Find some ways to give you power in everyday life.”

“Wally had the same idea,” Dick said. “I wasn't completely sold on it, but I guess it couldn't make things worse than they already are.”

“I could talk to Bruce and Alfred on your behalf,” Dinah offered.

“I think they've gotten the memo already,” Dick replied. “Especially Bruce. He's been consulting me on things he'd normally just go ahead and do.”

“Good to hear. I can make sure he keeps that up, if you like.”

“Couldn't hurt.”

“All right. I'll have a word with him.” Dinah jotted down a note. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“I guess we should talk about going back out in the field tonight,” Dick replied. “I mean, I'm not patrolling but just putting the suit on is going to be weird.”

“Oh, definitely,” Dinah replied. “But it could be good for you.”

Dick shrugged. “Maybe. If the thing even fits me anymore.”

“I'm sure Alfred can do something. The man sews so well, I swear it's his superpower.”

“Or maybe he's just had a lot of practice on Bruce's skin,” Dick replied.

Dinah chuckled. “Probably.”

“In all seriousness, though, I'm going to feel safer out on the rooftops and armed to the teeth than I feel here. I barely got through lunch with Bruce and Lucius because I flipped out when Alfred put a glass of water in front of me this morning. Not my finest moment.”

“It happens,” Dinah reassured him. “You've bounced back rather quickly, all things considered.”

“Huh.” Come to think of it, he had. “I hadn't noticed. Getting babied by Bruce probably helped a bit. I guess I was just in the right mood for it today. I'm still gonna need a nap before I head out tonight, though.”

“Good idea,” said Dinah. “Going out tonight could be quite stressful. Or it could end up being the best night you've had in months. Either way, being well-rested is a good starting point.”

Dick took a sip of his forgotten tea. It was lukewarm at best. Alfred would've been horrified. He also nibbled on a shortbread cookie, though he was always careful to call it a biscuit around Alfred and his aggressive Britishness.

Eating reminded Dick of something else he'd been meaning to ask.

“So, I've been wondering,” Dick said, finishing off the cookie. “Do you have any ideas for training while I'm not eating much?”

“Start small,” Dinah suggested. “Go easy on yourself. Give your metabolism time to build slowly and your appetite will probably grow with it. If you start feeling weak or dizzy, stop immediately. I'd also prefer if you were supervised at all times during training.”

“Fair enough.”

“If Bruce or Alfred aren't available, I'll try to pick up the slack,” Dinah continued. “Between the three of us, we should be able to help you get your strength back. Experiment with eating at your own pace. It'll be easier for you if you don't feel obligated to eat more before you're ready. If you still want to train on days when eating is too difficult, go easy on yourself.”

She was right, of course, but it was still a touch frustrating to hear. Dick sighed the feeling away best he could.

“All right. You've got a point.”

“Good. Now, if there's nothing else, I'll give Alfred a call to tell him we're finished.”

“Go ahead.”

“All right. Go rest. I'll stick around until he comes back. Sweet dreams.”

Dick snorted, getting up from his chair. “That's asking a little too much of me, BC, but for you, I will try.”

* * *

Wally came over after school, though Dick slept through it all until dinner. He ate a few pieces of ravioli and took a generous helping of vitamins and orange juice. Jason was around, but he and Dick still weren't really talking. They'd have to address it eventually, but now wasn't the time.

Shortly after sundown, Dick and Bruce headed into the underground bunker to suit up. As predicted, the Nightwing costume sagged horrifically.

“Check this out.” Dick leaned against the back of Bruce's chair. “I'm wearing a sack of elephant skin.”

Bruce frowned at the costume, though some of it was certainly directed at the evidence of Dick's continuing struggle with food. He hadn't exactly been well-nourished coming out of Skinner's facility, and the matter of his weight had only continued to worsen. Dick, for his part, was trying not to let it get to him. There were plenty of other things to worry about.

“Have Alfred take a look,” Bruce said.

“If he can fix this, he's officially a wizard.” Dick headed into the medical bay, where Alfred was preparing various tools for Bruce's potential injuries after patrol. Dick would probably be okay since he was heading back right after they'd spoken to Barbara, but Bruce still had to patrol the city.

“Ah, Master Dick.” Alfred set a roll of bandages aside. “I see the problem.” He ushered Dick out of the med bay and into the corner where the spare costumes were kept. Alfred pulled some pins out of the nearest cupboard and got to work. “I'm afraid I cannot take it in quite enough for your needs, sir. I can compensate with additional armour padding.”

“Knock yourself out,” Dick replied.

Wally was watching Alfred pin the costume on Dick, leaning against the wall. “The costume's not gonna fit anymore if you put your weight back on.”

“This is a temporary solution, sir,” Alfred replied. “I won't remove any fabric. Please refrain from damaging it if possible, Master Dick. I would rather not subject your spare costumes to this treatment unless absolutely necessary.”

“Provided no one tries to kick my ass tonight, you've got nothing to worry about,” said Dick.

Alfred finished pinning and Dick changed into a sweater and jeans in another room. While Alfred worked on the adjustments, Dick and Wally read the files Bruce was bringing up on the batcomputer screen. Mostly police reports of recent incidents. Dick didn't miss how Bruce was deliberately avoiding any files even tangentially related to the child-trafficking case.

“Where's Barbara meeting us?” Dick asked after a while. The police incident reports had quickly devolved into a bunch of drunk-and-disorderlies. Boring.

“The roof of the GCPD,” Bruce replied, clicking to another report.

Dick's modest dinner turned to lead inside him. “Uhhh, is that such a great idea? You know, with the GCPD being infiltrated and all?”

“We're not talking there,” Bruce said. “It's just a convenient meeting place.”

That was better. “Okay. You had me worried for a moment. I take it someone's with her? I can't imagine they're letting Commissioner Gordon into the precinct.”

“He's under house arrest,” Bruce replied. “An officer will be with Barbara.”

“Yeah, that doesn't make me feel better.”

“I chose the officer myself. She'll be safe.”

“If you say so.” Dick was mentally running through his belt's inventory anyway, just in case.

“I'm sure she's fine,” Wally assured him.

“Organising this rally could make her a target,” Dick replied. “Too many people have already died because of this bullshit. I'm not about to let her join them.”

“She won't,” Bruce promised. Dick didn't fully believe him.

A short time later, Alfred returned with the altered suit. “Try this, sir.”

The suit fit much better, and the extra padding made him look a little less bony than he really was. It wouldn't do for anyone to see his apparent frailty. He could still throw a face-shattering punch if he put his mind to it, but he certainly didn't look it. He was enough of a target as it was without the extra _attack me I'm helpless_ vibe. His face was still on the thin side but he couldn't do anything about that. If anyone asked, he could just claim he was recovering from illness.

“Ready when you are, B,” Dick said, fastening his utility belt. At least the thing had some extra notches already.

Jason stepped out of the elevator. “Going without me?”

“Just for tonight,” Bruce replied. “You can monitor us on the computer if your homework is finished and you're in bed by ten. Dick will be coming back early.”

“Good. He looks like a toothpick.”

“ _Jason_.”

“No, he's right,” said Dick. “I'm not patrolling. Just gonna meet Barbara and then come back.”

Jason shrugged. “It's not like my opinion changes anything.” He settled himself in front of the computer. “Go have your secret meeting or whatever.”

Dick ruffled the kid's hair. He expected Jason to smack him, but the kid just cringed and let it happen. So Dick flicked his ear as well before following Bruce to the batmobile.

“So...” Nightwing said, closing the car door. “What do we do if she wants us to show up at the rally?”

Batman started the car. “We say no. Put your seatbelt on.”

Nightwing's hands were already reaching for it, but okay. “You know she's not just gonna take that.”

“We won't give her a choice.”

Nightwing sighed. “This is going to end badly.”

* * *

Barbara was huddled under a heavy coat by the batsignal when Batman and Nightwing landed on the roof. Officer Montoya tipped her hat to them and headed back downstairs.

“What took you so long?” Barbara asked.

“Costume malfunction,” Nightwing replied.

“ _Right_.” Barbara looked him up and down, frowning. “Haven't seen you in a while.”

“Illness,” Nightwing said. “Only just shook it off.”

Batman shot his grapnel into the edge of the nearest roof and tucked Barbara close against his side. “Hang on.” The two of them lifted off. Nightwing shot his own line and followed them up.

Barbara had already regained her footing by the time Nightwing finished his ascent. “I need to ask a favour,” she said as soon as Nightwing joined them. “We're getting a rally together for my dad. I think you should be there. So, could you?”

“No,” Batman replied.

“Our own end of the investigation is taking up nearly all our time,” Nightwing added in an attempt to soften the blow. “Sorry, Barb.”

“It would mean the world to my dad,” Barbara pressed. “Batman, you're his friend. You can't just abandon him.”

“We're not abandoning him,” Batman replied.

“We're not much for public appearances,” Nightwing said. “You've got some important people coming already. You keep doing what you do best, and we'll do the same. It'll be worth it in the end, I promise.”

Barbara scowled at him for a solid few seconds, before her expression cleared. “Okay. Fine.” She pushed past Nightwing to the edge of the roof. “Take me back. We'll win without your help.”

Batman wordlessly took her back to the GCPD and passed her back to Montoya. Barbara left them without a backward glance. Nightwing wasn't convinced she was going to let it go as easily as she'd pretended.

“She's planning something,” Nightwing said as he and Batman headed back to the car. “There's no way she'd give up that easily if she didn't already have a backup plan.”

“I'll deal with it. Let's get you home.”

Nightwing belted himself into the seat and Batman started the engine. “Seriously, B. Barbara has no sense of self-preservation. She's my friend and I love her dearly, but she's worse than Vicki freaking Vale when it comes to staying out of trouble.”

“She won't do anything to jeopardise her father's freedom.”

“I'm more worried about her getting in over her head. _I'm_ in over my head.”

“I'll keep an eye on her when I can,” Batman reassured him. “Nothing's going to happen to her on my watch.”

“Famous last words,” Nightwing muttered. Optimism was in short supply tonight.

* * *

Wally had Dick's bag ready for him when he and Bruce reached the bunker. Bruce headed back out into the city while Dick got changed, and he and Wally took the zeta tube back to Central City, where Barry was waiting with the car. The whole changeover ran like a well-oiled machine, and Dick was curled up in bed with Wally in no time flat.

“How'd you feel today?” Wally asked him. He'd left the lamp on; neither of them were quite ready for sleep yet. Dick's attempts to persuade Wally to get some sleep so he wasn't a zombie at school the next morning went unheard.

Dick flopped against Wally's chest. “Stressed. I freaked out when Alfred put a glass in front of me. Had to go lie down. I got over it end the end, but it still wasn't great.”

“That's not fun,” Wally replied, resting a warm hand between Dick's shoulderblades.

“But then I had to leave my room before I was ready because I'd already agreed to have lunch with Bruce and Lucius,” Dick grumbled. “Honestly, though, I probably wouldn't have left my room all day if I didn't have to.”

“Nothing wrong with it if that's where you feel safe, babe.”

“Lucius wants to meet you, by the way.”

“He's not gonna threaten to remove my intestines if I break your heart, is he?”

“Probably not. He'll just ruin you financially with a few keystrokes. There's a reason he practically runs Wayne Enterprises.”

“Remind me to stay on his good side,” Wally said grimly. “My parents certainly aren't gonna throw me a bone if I go broke.”

“I could always go kick your dad's ass in the dead of the night if you wanted,” Dick offered. “He wouldn't even know it was me.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

Dick crawled up to Wally's face, holding himself up on his forearms, and kissed his nose. “I try.”

Wally booped Dick's nose in return. “My little ball of violence.”

“I'm just pent-up from not patrolling,” Dick replied. “As soon as I get out there, I'll stop threatening to punch people. Probably.”

“Nah, that's just a part of who you are. Embrace it.”

“This is not a Bruce-approved conversation.”

“Bruce isn't exactly the poster-child for pacifism.”

“My life would be a little different if he was.”

Wally snorted. “Understatement of the year, babe.”

Dick didn't want to think about it. Now would not be a good time to start resenting Bruce for putting him on the path that led to a lot of bad shit that had probably messed him up for life.

“Babe?”

“Still here,” Dick said, pulling himself out of his head.

“Think anything worth talking about?”

Dick shrugged. “Not really. Weird, pointless hypotheticals.”

“Ah, the good old 'what if' game. We've all played it at some point.” Wally rubbed his thumbs along Dick's cheeks. “Sure you don't want to talk about it?”

“I'd rather not.” Dick leaned into Wally's touch, letting his eyes slide shut. “I don't wanna go down that rabbit-hole. I'll just start resenting people for being the way they are.” He sighed a little bit, because it made him feel better, and changed the subject. “How's school going?”

Wally allowed the change. “Eh. It's okay. When I'm not tearing my hair out.”

“Don't do that. I like your hair.” Dick rubbed a few strands between his fingers.

“I'll remind myself next time it sounds like a good idea.” Wally pinched his cheeks, just lightly. “Can't have you running off to the next redhead who'll have you. Barbara'll gloat for the rest of her life. She'll send me messages through Artemis every day until I cry.”

“I don't even know how to respond to that.”

“Good. Don't. Just the thought of it is enough to make me well up...”

Dick nipped one of the fingers on his cheeks. “Drama queen.”

Wally dropped his hands to Dick's waist. “Yeah, yeah. Settle down. Some of us have to get up in the morning, you know.”

Dick settled his head back on Wally's chest and Wally turned out the light. “How's your workload at the moment?”

“Pretty heavy. Why?”

“Just wondering. About the rally.”

“I can take some time out to go with you,” Wally offered.

“That's the thing, though. I don't want you falling behind.”

“But if you need me there...”

“I'll be okay. Bruce is going.”

“If you're sure...”

“I'm sure,” Dick replied firmly. “I'll tell you all about it later.”

Wally rubbed his palm in circles on Dick's back. “How are you feeling about it?”

Dick closed his eyes, letting it relax him. “Nervous. But I knew I'd be. I don't go out in public much.”

“That fact you're considering it at all is pretty damn brave, Dick. I don't know if I'd be able to handle it in your position.”

“It's for the commissioner. He's done a lot for me. So has Barbara. My presence will mean something. If I support Gordon, other people will know it's okay to do the same. They'll listen to me.”

“They will,” Wally agreed. “I'm glad you realise that.” He didn't add the words 'after what Skinner did' to the end of that sentence, but the implication was there. Dick appreciated his restraint. He didn't want to talk about Skinner right now.

“I can't do much,” Dick murmured against Wally's shirt. “I can't physically hunt down the bastard that tried to take down one of the few people who still fucking believes me. But I've got a voice and I'm gonna damn well use it.”

“You've got a set of lungs on you, babe,” Wally said. “The whole of Gotham's gonna hear you.”

“They better.”

Wally kissed the top of his head. “I still believe you. Just for the record.”

“I know.” Dick huddled into Wally's warmth. “Thank you.”

“'Love you, babe.”

“'Love you, too.”

He woke up screaming from the nightmares a few hours later, but Wally held him until they went away and he fell back into sleep again.

 


	31. Rally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick attends the rally, a new bat-person is sighted, and someone really has it out for Commissioner Gordon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, I will have posted over 300k to this site (and half of that is this fic). That seems important, somehow. A measurement of my ability to procrastinate on the things I need to do by writing about boys kissing?
> 
> Warnings about the discussion of the sexual assault of minors. I believe that's the only warning for this chapter specifically. Feel free to let me know if I've missed a warning.

Dick was not prepared for the rally. At all. Sure, he'd written a speech outlining exactly how he felt about Gordon's arrest, but it didn't feel good enough. And crowds weren't exactly his favourite thing. Not having Wally with him made it harder, but he wasn't about to let him compromise his grades in his final year of high school. He'd just have to cope with out him.

Shortly before Dick and Bruce left for the rally, they had a chat with Jason.

“I thought I was coming,” Jason complained.

“I have a better idea,” Bruce replied. “Batman is unavailable for the rally, but Robin can afford to swing by for a moment.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Jason rushed towards the penthouse's secret elevator to the batcave.

“The location is already programmed into your bike,” Bruce called after him. “Don't crash it.”

“That's just asking for trouble, B,” Dick said, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything. Including a stun gun, which he probably wouldn't use but he felt better having on hand.

Alfred ushered them to the official private elevator and they headed down to the underground parking lot. Dick was starting to feel a little nauseous. The rally was to be held outdoors, totally open to the public. The officers running security for the event would keep an eye out for trouble, but all it would take was a clever disguise or an overtired officer for all that planning to fall apart.

Dick climbed in the backseat of one of Bruce's relatively normal-looking cars. There were paper bags stuffed into the seat pocket in front of him, probably courtesy of Alfred. At least Dick wouldn't ruin the car if he lost the battle with his stomach for the millionth time this year.

The rally was scheduled in front of the courthouse. The sight of the building made Dick feel ill, but he swallowed it down. He wasn't going to be weak today. He was going to get out there and make it abundantly clear that he was not putting up with this bullshit.

Alfred dropped Dick and Bruce off at the front of the building and drove away to park at the back. The police officers Barbara had trusted to attend cleared them a path through the crowd of reporters and ordinary people who had shown up to support their commissioner. Dick hoped news of his own attendance had helped swell the numbers a bit, that people knew his support meant it was safe for them to support Gordon without making it look like they supported child molestation and corruption.

He and Bruce climbed the stairs together and met with Van Dorn by the podium. One of her male assistant DAs was talking to an officer nearby.

“Thank you for coming,” Van Dorn said.

“Commissioner Gordon's a good man,” Dick replied. “I couldn't sit back and let him take the fall for this.”

“That's a commendable attitude,” said Van Dorn. “Miss Gordon hasn't arrived yet. She told us to start without her.”

“Well, I guess if it came from her...” It still didn't sit right with Dick, but that wasn't his call.

The assistant DA came over and shook Dick's hand, getting into Dick's space a little more rapidly than he would've liked. “Assistant District Attorney Anderson. You must be Richard Grayson.”

Dick may have squeezed his fingers a little tighter than he would have normally, but, honestly the man should've known better than to invade his personal space. “That is indeed my name.”

“Bruce Wayne,” Bruce said, holding out his own hand so Anderson had to let Dick go.

“A pleasure,” said Anderson, barely concealing a wince. Bruce had quite a grip. Especially when he was trying to be intimidating without broadcasting his intent.

“Anderson,” Van Dorn interrupted. “If you're done schmoozing, go talk to Officer Montoya. I need an update on security.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Anderson headed down into the crowd.

“Your assistant doesn't deal with rape survivors very often, does he?” Dick said quietly.

“You're not the first to say that,” Van Dorn replied. “If my other assistant hadn't been ill... no matter. Let's get started.”

Another man in a suit came up the steps. Dick hoped this one understood the concept of personal space a little better.

“Deputy Police Commissioner Gil Mason,” Van Dorn said. “He has been instrumental in organising this rally.”

“Barbara needed someone she could trust,” Mason said. “I'm honoured she chose me. Thanks for coming, kid.”

“Least I could do,” Dick replied. He wasn't much in the mood for talking to strange men today, but he supposed the guy couldn't be so bad if Barbara trusted him. And that least this guy hadn't tried to shake his hand.

“If there were more people who had your concept of 'least you could do', the world would be a better place,” said Mason. “All right. Ready to get things started?”

“As ready as I'm going to get,” Dick replied.

Gil Mason stepped behind the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. Thank you for joining us in our protest against the corruption in our own institutions that has led to our beloved police commissioner taking the blame for the heinous acts of others who would rather see a good man go to prison than admit to their own wrongdoing. Commissioner Gordon is the most moral, upstanding man I know. Even the people most hurt by this horrifying miscarriage of justice, which let child molesters and murderers walk free, stand with us to support our commissioner today.”

Mason gestured for Dick to join him. Bruce squeezed his shoulder. Dick swallowed his stomach and forced himself to take those few steps forward.

“Richard Grayson has graciously agreed to talk to us today,” Mason continued. Dick's speech was heavy in his pocket. He fished it out with trembling fingers. “Go on kid,” he said, covering the microphone. “Show them what you're made of.”

Mason stepped aside and Dick stepped up, grasping the edges of the podium to steady himself. He swallowed, and spoke:

“Most of you know what happened to me and the other children who were abducted and forced into prostitution.” He breathed. “Commissioner Gordon was there the night we were freed. He worked tirelessly with the District Attorney to get us a trial as quickly as possible so we could get our justice and finally feel safe. Putting the blame on Commissioner Gordon is distracting us from the real issue.” Dick felt himself getting stronger. The shakes were dissipating. He could do this. “We're not safe. Not while one of our greatest advocates is taking the blame for the failure of a trial he worked so hard on in the first place. Not while the people responsible for that are pulling their strings from the safety of the sidelines. And, most definitely, not while our rapists are walking free. We need to find the people who are really responsible for letting this happen and deal with them so the children they are hurting can finally sleep at—”

The crowd gasped. A dark shape soared across the sky. Kind of in the shape of a bat. But smaller. Dick knew it wasn't Jason, because he could see Robin on a nearby rooftop.

“It's Batman!” someone cried from the crowd below. It wasn't. But if the crowd thought it was, it probably wouldn't hurt. Bruce would get to the bottom of this imposter's identity later.

The bat-person swung out of sight. Dick was about to wrap up his speech when he spotted a car pulling up to the curb. Okay, no big deal. Probably just a late-comer. Right?

Well, he thought that until the yelling and gunfire started. A sharp pain hit Dick's bicep. Bruce dragged him down behind the podium. The officers in the crowd pulled their guns, but the car was already driving off.

The bat-person and Robin gave chase up in the sky.

“We'll have to trust Robin,” Bruce whispered in his ear. Dick couldn't speak, but he could nod. Bruce pressed his palm against a wound on Dick's arm. It stung like hell, but it wasn't deep.

A few tense minutes passed. Dick spotted Robin on the roof again, giving a thumbs-up. Criminals caught, then.

Dick could see Van Dorn and Mason emerging from behind the pillars, both on their phones.

Van Dorn knelt beside Dick. “The attackers have been caught. Robin and a girl in a bat costume stopped the car. Are you hurt?”

“Just a flesh wound,” Bruce replied on Dick's behalf, who was too busy shaking. “Can we get inside?”

“Yes.” Van Dorn headed over to the doors, where Mason produced a set of keys to unlock them.

“Can you stand?” Bruce asked Dick, who nodded. He was hurt and shaking all over, but he was lucid. Bruce steered him indoors while Van Dorn fetched a medic.

He'd been stitched up and bandaged and given a bright orange shock blanket by the time Barbara finally appeared.

“Oh my God,” she said, throwing herself on to the chair beside Dick's. “I am so sorry.”

“Your presence wouldn't have made a difference,” Dick replied. He'd only just regained his powers of speech a few minutes ago. Bruce still hovered by his side.

“That's not what I...” Barbara reached out and shakily tidied Dick's blanket. “I should've been here. You came out here as a favour to me and my dad and now you've been shot.”

“It's a flesh wound, Barb. I'm not gonna die.”

“I know that,” Barbara said patiently. “But just coming out here must've been so hard for you. And for this to happen...”

“It's not the worst thing to happen to me this year,” Dick replied, trying for levity and failing horribly.

“Dick. Your lips are the same colour as your skin. You can stop pretending you're okay any minute now.”

“I'd rather keep up the illusion, if you don't mind. I have enough breakdowns as it is.”

Barbara's phone buzzed. “Crap. It's Dad. Hang on.” Barbara picked up. “I'm fine, Dad. I got here after the shooting happened. I think Dick's the only one who got hit. Nothing major. Flesh wound. I'm with him now.” She held out the phone. “Dad wants to talk.”

Dick freed his good arm from the blankets and took the phone. “Hello?”

“Barbara said you were shot,” came the Commissioner's voice from the other end of the line.

“Lucky hit, I guess,” Dick replied. “I didn't duck fast enough. I'm already stitched up and good as new. We're in the courthouse while the police sweep the area, but the shooters have already been taken to the police station. I think Bullock wanted to interrogate them personally.”

Gordon sighed. “Of course he did. Thanks for coming out for the rally, kid, even if it ended badly.”

“I got through most of my speech,” Dick replied. “So I got my point across before the bullets started flying. No one was seriously injured, so it worked out okay, all things considered.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” Gordon muttered. “Get Bruce to tell Mason and Montoya to escort Barbara back home, okay?”

“I will. Bye.” He handed the phone back to Barbara. “Bruce, make sure Mason and Montoya know they have to take Barbara home.”

“I'll take care of it,” Bruce promised.

Van Dorn poked her head in through the door. “The police have finished their sweep. We can leave. Barbara, is someone taking you home?”

“Mason and Montoya are on babysitter duty,” Barbara replied, with only the slightest hint of scorn.

“Someone call my name?” Mason brushed past Van Dorn into the room.

“Yeah, me,” said Barbara. “Dad wants you and Renee to get me home.”

“All right,” said Mason. “Let's find her and get out of here.”

Bruce and Dick waited until Barbara was safely gone before they had Alfred pick them up and take them back to Wayne Enterprises. Jason was already waiting in the bunker.

“I've put my mask footage on the computer,” he said. “And I found some news videos and a security camera. Just to cover our bases.”

“Good work, Jason,” Bruce said, taking a seat. Dick leaned against the back. A whirlwind tore into the bunker, and that could only mean Wally.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, screeching to a halt at Dick's side. “I saw the news footage. You were shot.”

“Flesh wound,” Dick replied. “It's been looked after.”

“Hug?”

“Sure.” Dick could use one after the day he'd had.

Wally hugged him from behind, arms secure around his waist. “This shouldn't have happened. What the hell?”

“We'll get to the bottom of it,” Bruce assured him. “We already have the shooters in custody.” He ran the media footage of the shooting. It was a little disconcerting for Dick to watch himself get shot. Bruce ran the video a few more times and Dick tuned himself out enough to notice something weird in the background.

“Can we run slow motion on Mason?” Dick asked. “I think he's moving before we see the guns.”

Bruce zoomed in on Mason, who was standing by the pillars once he'd handed the podium over to Dick. He slowly shuffled behind a pillar just as the cars turned up, but before any danger was apparent.

“Anyone wanna guess why the Deputy Commissioner might want to take out the real Commissioner?” Dick said.

“Hm.” Bruce replayed the footage again. “The Assistant District Attorney does the same thing.” Anderson ducked behind a police car while the cars carrying the shooters were still coming down the street.

“I hated that guy anyway,” Dick replied. “I bet he'll crack faster than Mason.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Bruce closed the video and found Robin's mask footage. “I'll look into it tonight. Barbara got home safely, despite Mason's behaviour. I suppose we have Montoya to thank for that. For now, we have another mystery.”

“The girl in the bat costume,” Dick assumed.

Bruce ran the footage of Robin and the girl's fight with the shooters' car, where they forced it to crash into a dumpster. The girl was tall and thin and she kicked one of the attackers in the face like she'd been doing it all her life. Robin tried to talk to her after the fight was over, but she ran. Robin got a grip on her cowl, which broke at the back, red hair spilling out of the hole as she kept running, leaving Robin to deal with a car full of unconscious gangsters.

“A redhead with combat training, huh?” said Dick. “I can think of a certain redhead who'd have a vested interest in making it look like Batman attended that rally.”

“If that is her motivation, she might not put the costume on again.” Bruce closed the video.

“Unless she's caught the bug,” Dick replied. “Kicking ass can be pretty addictive. And dangerous, especially for someone who hasn't been trained how to fight the way a vigilante has to in this town.”

“Jason,” Bruce called.

Jason emerged from the training room. “Yeah?”

“Keep an eye on the Gordon residence tonight,” said Bruce. “I have to chase down a lead. If Barbara puts the costume on again, let me know.”

“You mean Barbara...?” Jason smirked, and didn't bother finishing the sentence. “Of course she did.”

“Dick, you can go,” Bruce said. “Get some rest.”

“I might train for a bit first,” Dick replied.

“Don't pull your stitches.”

“I'll be careful.”

Things were getting interesting, and it really grated on Dick that he couldn't be involved. All he could do was train himself up and do would he could from home. He'd get back into the field one day. Just not yet.

* * *

“I thought Bruce told you to rest,” Wally said to Dick later that evening, as Dick combed over the corruption evidence file on his laptop.

“I am resting,” Dick replied, half-listening to the chatter of the communicator in his ear. “Look, I'm in bed and everything. Don't you have homework to do?”

Wally sighed and opened his textbook, flopping on his bed by Dick's feet. “What are you even looking for?”

“Any sign of Anderson or Mason in the data,” Dick replied. “Why else would two people that high up the pecking order risk their careers over a rape trial?” Dick found some credit card numbers that hadn't been identified yet. He ran them through a trace program. Bruce's priority had been implicating Skinner and his people in jury-tampering, not in potentially identifying further clients. But Dick had a feeling that had caused them to miss a few key pieces of data. “Oh. Hello.”

“Found something?”

“Anderson has been a very bad man,” Dick muttered, pressing the communicator in his ear. “Hey, Batman. It's Nightwing. I've got some info you might be interested in.”

“I'm about to start an interrogration,” Batman said curtly. “Can it wait?”

“It'll help,” Dick replied. “Trust me. I just found a secret credit card number under an alias that traces back to our dear friend Anderson. I can even tell you what age and gender preference the guy has. Then I might go throw up a little. Sending you the data.”

“Good work, Nightwing,” Batman said after a second. “Now _rest_.”

“I was gonna see if I could find anything linking Mason in the data, you know, for even more leverage.”

“I'll take care of it. You've done enough for tonight. Thank you.” Bruce's voice left no room for argument.

“Okay.” Dick saved a copy of Anderson's data and closed the file. “Let me know how it turns out. And if Batgirl shows up again.”

“Don't give her a name.”

“Convenient shorthand.”

“Don't. Goodnight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, boss.” Dick severed the connection.

“No more work tonight?” Wally asked, turning the page.

“Yeah. Happy?”

“Put the laptop away and maybe I will be.”

Dick closed the laptop and got up to shove it back in his bag. “While I'm up, did you want a snack?”

“I'm good.” Wally stomach grumbled.

Dick snorted. “I'll be back.”

He headed downstairs. Barry was on Justice League business, but Iris was home and watching television.

“Anything good on?” Dick asked her, leaning over the back of the couch. Shaky camera footage of the rally shooting was playing on the screen.

“Everyone's reporting on the rally,” Iris replied.

“Of course they are. Everybody loves a good shootout.”

“How's your arm?”

“Stings a bit but I can ignore it,” Dick replied. “The pain meds take the edge off. We've got some leads on who's trying to implicate Gordon, so at least something good came out of it. You know I'd hate to take a bullet for no reason.”

“Don't we all.” Iris turned off the television. “Did you need something?”

“Wally's hungry.”

“Of course he is. I'll heat up the leftovers and bring them up. Shoo.”

Dick headed back up to Wally's room. “Iris is heating up leftovers.”

“Sweet.” Wally had grabbed his notes at some point and turned a page into a paper boat. Dick took it off him and unfolded it back into its original shape.

“Very pretty, Wally, but try to keep the chaos away from the stuff you need to pass high school,” he said, passing the paper back.

“School is disgusting.”

“Preaching to the choir, Walls.” Dick sat down next to the paper explosion around his boyfriend.

“Yeah, I suppose you of all people don't need to be told,” Wally murmured. “Have you thought about what you're gonna do about school?”

Dick shrugged. “Bruce offered to homeschool me when the Academy put their foot down on attendance. I might have to take him up on that, at least for the rest of the year. Maybe once Skinner's gone I'll go back.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Wally grabbed a set of flashcards. “Trying to remember some formulas. Test me.”

They got through about half the stack before Iris brought the leftovers. She also brought some light snacks for Dick.

Wally dug into a huge bowl of pasta while Dick nibbled on some sticks of carrot and celery. He stole a few bites of pasta here and there.

Bruce called him just as they were finishing up.

“Yes, big guy?” Dick said into his communicator, swallowing the last of his celery.

“Anderson folded,” Bruce said, still well into Batman-mode. “He's cutting a deal with the DA as we speak.”

“He's a pedophile, B,” Dick reminded him.

“He will go to prison for a few years and register as a sex offender,” Bruce assured him. “He had information about Mason. It will take time to verify. Robin was already stationed at the Gordon residence. I have him keeping an eye out for Mason as well as Batgirl—”

“Made you say it.”

“...in case he finds out Anderson gave him up,” Bruce finished. “Good work tonight, even though I told you _not to do it_.”

“Don't you have a cat to rescue from a tree or something? Or a Catwoman?”

“Goodnight, Dick.”

“No real names in the field, _Batman_.”

Bruce ended the call.

“Good news?” Wally asked.

“Anderson asked for a deal,” Dick replied. “Bruce says he'll still go to prison and register as a sex offender, so I guess it'll turn out okay. He's ratting out Mason in exchange for whatever he's getting. Probably a cushier cell in minimum security or something. I don't know. As long as he does the time, I don't really care.”

“Sounds like we found our leaks,” Wally said, packing up his books. “I bet Van Dorn feels terrible her department was involved.”

“Commissioner Gordon will feel the same way when we fill him in,” said Dick. “Going to bed?”

“Yeah. I'm beat. And I didn't even get shot today.” He kissed Dick's forehead. “Get changed. I'll be back in a minute.”

Dick pulled his pyjamas out of Wally's closet, ready to put the day behind him.

* * *

Mason went missing later that week. Dick helped him sort through the information Anderson had given them. Much of it could be verified through the internet. The rest required good old-fashioned footwork. Detective Bullock and Officer Montoya had taken it upon themselves to deal with that side of things.

Batman just had a few loose ends to tie up.

“Come on, B,” Dick said, trailing him through the bunker. “You know you could use the backup.”

“I said no.” Bruce grabbed his utility belt and sat behind a desk to check what needed restocking.

“I'm putting weight back on,” Dick argued. “I'm getting stronger. I just wanna be your backup. I can handle that much.”

“That's not your call to make,” Bruce replied. “It's mine. And I say no.”

Something about his phrasing rubbed Dick the wrong way. “I know you're in touch with Barbara. You let her patrol. You gave her a batarang.”

“To defend herself,” Bruce said. “I am not condoning her actions. And even if I was, she's far healthier than you are.”

“She's untrained,” Dick snapped. “If she's so desperate to help, she should be staying home to protect her dad, not risking her damn life chasing a man with a _gun_.”

Bruce stood up, fastening his belt around his waist. “Not. Your. Call.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Dick shot back. “Nothing's my call. Forget it. I'm going back to Wally's.”

“Thank you.”

Dick didn't justify that with a response. He grabbed his bag, punched Central City's coordinates into the zeta tube and shot Wally a text to let him know he was coming.

He rematerialised in Central and pushed the phone booth door open. Wally would be with him in a moment. It only took a few seconds to speed-run from the West-Allen residence.

Dick didn't feel like waiting around. He hitched up his bag more securely on his shoulder and started for the street. He just reached the first traffic light when Wally caught up with him.

“Hey.” He overshot Dick a tiny bit and jogged back to him. “Everything okay?”

“Bruce won't let me back him up tonight.”

“He's probably trying to protect you.” They crossed the road. “You know he isn't the best at explaining things.”

“He's letting Barbara patrol,” Dick snapped. “You don't let a newbie run around the city, especially when her life's in danger. If he's going to insist on letting her continue, he should at least train her a bit first, for God's sake.”

“Yeah, that's not the smartest thing he's done,” Wally admitted.

“And heaven forbid I might want to be involved in an arrest that affects me.” Dick hit the next crossing button a little harder than necessary. “I'm not even asking to be front and centre. I just want to be there in case something goes wrong.”

“I know.” Wally took his hand. “Take a deep breath, okay? You can get the feed from the cowl cam on your laptop, right? We'll keep an eye on things. If you're needed, I'll run you to the zeta tube.”

Dick took a long breath and let it out. “Okay. I can deal with that.”

A few more crossings later, they made it to Wally's place. Dick set his laptop up in the bedroom, reclining against Wally's chest. Wally fed him nuts from a half-eaten packet.

He had Batman and Robin's cameras in adjacent windows and set up an alert hooked into the police scanner. Anything related to Batman, Robin, Mason, or either of the Gordons would be played for him to hear.

Batman was sifting through Mason's house while Robin acted as a lookout. Robin had left a camera on the Gordon residence. Barbara was still at home with her father. For now.

“Do we know why Mason is helping Skinner?” Wally asked, holding another nut to Dick's mouth.

Dick grabbed the nut with his teeth and ate it before answering. “Mob connections. Very embarrassing for an up-and-coming future police commissioner. Anderson was ordered to do some digging to find someone in the police department worth blackmailing. Funny since Anderson was being blackmailed himself. He found out our illustrious Deputy Commissioner accepted bribes from Two-Face and his rise through the ranks was largely due to his benefactor's influence.”

“So he's not another pedophile?”

“As far as we know,” Dick replied. “Bruce has been combing through the data and found evidence of blackmail, but nothing about Mason being a client. He'll go down for corruption, but it looks like he avoided dipping his toes in the water, so to speak. Van Dorn's going to eviscerate him anyway, but he won't have it as bad as Anderson. That creepy fuck deserves everything she throws at him.”

Some henchman were waiting for Batman when he entered the bedroom. Presumably they were Two-Face's. Robin was busy fending off a bunch at the front of the house, but he and Batman looked like they were handling it.

But, of course, that had to be when a car pulled up in front of the Gordon residence.

“Fuck.” Dick tossed his laptop aside.

“I'll call Bruce. You get changed.”

Dick tore into his bag and dug out his costume, half-listening to Wally's conversation.

“Yeah, I get you're busy.”

Dick threw off his clothes in record time.

“But this is really important.”

Dick stepped into the bodysuit and pulled it on around his body.

“Someone's just shown up at the Gordon residence.”

Zipped up. Utility belt on.

“Nightwing's suiting up.”

Boots on.

“I know it's not ideal. Black Canary? Okay. I'll call her.”

Gloves on.

“But he's still coming. I'm not getting in his way tonight.”

Nightwing secured the mask on his face. “Ready.”

“Okay, we're heading out.” Wally ended the call and started another as he hurried into his own costume. “Black Canary. This is Kid Flash. We're needed at the Gordon residence. Batman and Robin are busy. Nightwing's coming. Meet you there.”

Kid Flash threw Nightwing onto his back and raced out of the house.

* * *

Nightwing had Kid Flash set him down a block away from the Gordons' house. They continued at a jog. A second car had shown up in the meantime.

Nightwing headed for the back door while Kid Flash updated Black Canary and then slashed the tires on the cars. He would wait for Nightwing's signal, and then burst through the front door.

Nightwing slipped inside, immediately hearing voices.

“Listen, kid, this has all been a big misunderstanding,” came Mason's voice from the living room. “I promise I'm not here to hurt your old man. I just wanted to get this all straightened out.”

“Then why does that guy look like one of the shooters Robin arrested at the rally?” Barbara replied. Barbara had an excellent memory that served her well at times, but it probably would've been safer for her to play along this time. “He's meant to be locked up. Did you bust him out?”

Mason sighed. “Grab her.”

“No!” _Smack!_

Nightwing peered around the corner to find Barbara behind the couch, fists raised, while Mason rubbed his cheek.

“Ugh, you brat! After her!”

Nightwing threw an escrima at the corner past Barbara, where it richocheted and smacked into Mason's head. The man went down, but the others were still standing.

“Now, KF,” Nightwing said into his communicator, and leapt into the fray. He'd retrieved his stick and taken another opponent down just as Kid Flash tore inside with Black Canary on his heels.

Barbara tripped one of the henchmen who got too close to her and knocked him out with a lamp. Nightwing dragged her into the kitchen, letting Kid Flash and Black Canary take down the others.

“Where's your father?” he asked.

“He was in bed,” Barbara replied.

“Come on.” Nightwing dragged her upstairs. “Stay behind me.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Not without the costume, you can't.”

“How did you—oh, forget it.”

They reached the Commissioner's bedroom. The door was open and a man in shadow had a gun aimed at a lump in the bed. Nightwing threw his escrima and knocked the gun away, following up with a kick to the face. Barbara turned on the light. The lump was just a bunch of pillows.

“Dad?” Barbara's voice was high, panicked.

The closet door opened and Commissioner Gordon stepped out, still in his striped pyjamas and holding his pistol. “I'm fine, Barbara.”

Barbara ran into her father's arms. Gordon placed his gun on the table next to him.

Nightwing pressed his communicator. “BC, KF, secure the perps and then do a sweep. BC, sweep the house. KF, the neighbourhood. I'll stay with the Gordons.” Nightwing took out a zip tie and secured the would-be shooter's hands behind his back. He pressed the communicator again. “Batman, Robin, the immediate threat is eliminated and we've got Mason. How're things on your end?”

“Quiet,” Robin replied. “Batman's cleaning up.”

“Okay. I'll call the police and get these guys locked away.” Nightwing disconnected. “Hope you're not too attached to that house arrest anklet, Commissioner.”

“I'll live without it,” Commissioner Gordon replied. “Thanks, kid.”

“Any time, sir.” Nightwing put in an automatic call to the GCPD.

Kid Flash's voice crackled in his ear. “Neighbourhood's clear, 'Wing.”

Black Canary appeared in the doorway. “The house is clear. I'll watch over our sleeping beauties until the police arrive. Would you like me to take that one downstairs?”

“Knock yourself out,” Nightwing replied.

“Hang on,” Barbara said as Black Canary dragged the unconscious thug out of the room. “Batman told me you're not meant to be in the field.”

“Batman forgot he can't be in two places at once,” Nightwing replied. “He'll chew me out for a few hours and then he'll get around to thanking me. He can't stay mad at me. I mean, look at this face. What you can see of it, anyway. Who could?”

“Keep talking like that and I might,” Barbara retorted.

Police sirens sounded in the distance. “Ah, that's my cue. Lovely seeing you two. I'm sure we'll catch up again the next time something goes horrifically wrong.” He pressed his communicator as he slid the bedroom window open. “KF, BC, let's get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gil Mason is borrowed from Batman: The Animated Series, like Van Dorn.


	32. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick turns sixteen. Nice things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: discussion of the sexual assault of minors and the earlier suicide attempt.
> 
> I was planning to continue this chapter, but it was getting really long. Like, over 8k and it wasn't even finished. So I chopped it into something more manageable.

Gordon was freed from house arrest the next morning and plans were set to hold the child trafficking retrial in the new year. Dick tried to put it out of his mind for a while. There were happier things to celebrate in the meantime. Namely, his sixteenth birthday.

He and Wally materialised in the main hall of Mount Justice that Friday, the day after his actual birthday. Alfred had baked cupcakes for the family (plus Wally) the previous night, but they were saving the party for the weekend.

Kaldur was reading on the holocomputer when Dick and Wally stepped into the room proper. “Happy birthday, Dick.”

“Thanks, Kaldur.” Dick stepped around the computer to join him. “What's this?”

“Mission reports. I can send them to you later if you would like to catch up.” Kaldur shut the computer down. “The others are already assembled in the sitting area.” The three of them headed there together.

M'gann was decorating a cake in the kitchen with Conner in charge of the candles. Artemis and Roy sat on the floor, bickering over a pile of DVDs. Zatanna and Raquel dumped packets of snacks into bowls, while Jason had somehow ended up cutting vegetables for a dips platter. Jason had left for Mount Justice before Dick and Wally had, since Dick had needed a few minutes to mentally prepare himself for the evening. He loved his friends, but large groups of people were still difficult.

“Happy birthday!” M'gann chirped.

“Since you've finally shown up,” said Jason, “maybe you could help the old married couple pick a movie before they give us all a headache.”

“You're a gentle soul, Jay,” Dick replied. Jason made a rude gesture with his knife. “Love you too, kid.” He did join Artemis and Roy on the floor anyway, while Wally pinched a bowl of chips from the bench.

“Roy's being precious,” Artemis said by way of greeting. “Talk some sense into him.”

“I know I'm good, Arty, but I don't think I'm _that_ good.”

Roy groaned. “Why did I even come here?”

“Because you love me,” Dick replied. “Now tell me what's got the two of you killing each other.”

“Roy's taste in movies sucks.”

“Oh, here we go.”

Dick sighed. “Show me the options. Wally, get your Google on.”

Wally set the bowl down and wiped his fingers on his jeans. “Sure thing, babe.” Jason audibly gagged.

Dick discarded a couple of movies that gave him a weird feeling and Wally looked the rest up online. Wally tended to take a more hard-line approach to disqualifying movies than Dick did.

They narrowed it down to a handful of movies. “There,” Dick said, shoving the DVD towards Roy and Artemis. “Fight over those. You have five minutes.” He got up and vaulted over the fraction of free space on the counter into the kitchen. Jason elbowed him in the guts as soon as his feet hit the floor.

“Ever heard of walking?” Jason said.

Dick jammed his fingers into Jason's sides, making the kid squeal. “Sorry, what'd you say?”

“I hate you.”

“Aw, you don't mean that.” Dick stole a carrot stick Jason had just finished cutting. “Nice knife skills, by the way.”

“Piss off.”

“I mean it,” Dick replied, biting his carrot in half. “Been cooking with Alfred?”

“Yeah,” Jason said quietly, visibly letting his guard back down. “I used to cook for Mum before she... yeah.”

Dick patted Jason on the back. “Well, I'm glad you kept it up.”

Roy and Artemis finally agreed on a movie and everyone piled onto the couch. It was a tight fit and M'gann ended up sitting in Conner's lap while Jason grabbed a cushion and sat on the floor. Wally had an enormous bowl of popcorn in his lap and an arm around Dick's shoulders.

They ended up watching the first Harry Potter movie. A dismaying number of the other films had scenes with characters making unwanted advances, mostly towards women whose protests went unheard. That crap was pretty skeevy even when it didn't result in an outright rape scene. Dick wasn't up to dealing with it.

“How's your arm?” Conner asked while Artemis navigated the menu and M'gann telekinetically switched off the light.

“Healing,” Dick replied. “Punch anyone worth talking about lately?”

“Not really.”

“Some of us haven't seen this before,” Jason said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “So shut up.”

Wally waved a piece of popcorn in front of Dick's face until he grabbed it with his teeth. “We're gonna lock him in a room and marathon the whole thing, right?” he whispered in Dick's ear.

“We'd all die of starvation,” Dick replied.

“We'd bring snacks, you monster.”

“Oh, hush.” Dick stole a handful of popcorn. “I guess we should. I never did see the last few, what with being dead and then turned into fate's punching bag and all. Metaphorically speaking. The last one came out this year, didn't it?”

“I haven't seen it, either,” Wally admitted. “Too busy. I know what I want for Christmas.”

“I'm gonna batarang the two of you in the face if you don't quit whispering over there,” Jason threatened.

Dick pelted a popcorn kernel at the back of his head. “It's my birthday.”

Jason threw the kernel back at him. “Yeah, yeah, happy sixth birthday to you. Now shut up.”

Wally snickered into his popcorn. Dick kicked off his shoes and curled up against his side.

“You'd think someone would've called child services by now,” he commented after a while, watching Harry's treatment at the hands of the Dursleys.

“Is it possible to punch a fictional character?” Jason asked.

“You could always write fanfiction about them getting beaten up,” Dick suggested. “That might make you feel better. Whatever you do, please do not punch the actors.”

Jason laughed when Dudley fell into the snake enclosure. “Take that, you brat.”

Honestly, watching Jason's reaction to the movie was more fun than watching the movie itself. That said, however, Dick and Wally couldn't help but quote along to some of Hermione's bossier lines, no matter how many times Artemis reached over Kaldur to poke Dick in the arm.

Jason was glued to the screen throughout the Mirror of Erised sections, much like Harry was attached to the vision of his parents within the mirror itself. Dick remembered watching it for the first time, when the pain of losing his family was still fresh. It had hit him pretty hard at the time. Jason, for his part, seemed okay, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Dick made a mental note to check in with him later.

Wally fiddled with the ends of Dick's hair, a subtle way of comforting him. Dick did get a bit wistful when watching scenes like this, but they rarely upset him anymore. He still avoided them on anniversaries. But, today, he was fine. He liked it when Wally played with his hair, though, so he let it happen. He mouthed _I'm okay_ to Wally the next time he caught his eye. No need to worry him when there was nothing to worry about.

Wally gave him a quick kiss as the plot moved ahead.

“You two are worse than Conner and M'gann,” Artemis said, poking Dick again.

“Are they being gross again?” asked Jason. “I'm trying to concentrate.”

Dick snorted and cuddled closer to Wally.

“No one's worse than Conner and M'gann,” said Zatanna.

“If you're done speculating on who wins Most Disgusting Couple of the Year,” Jason said, “let's all shut up and listen to Hermione explain everything because of course she figured it out first. And, oh look, Harry's jumping to conclusions about Professor Super Obvious Villain Who's Probably Not Even the Real Villain. Again.”

Later: “For God's sake, Hagrid. Learn to keep a secret.”

Dick snickered into Wally's shirt. Oh, he wished he was filming this. Jason getting way too into Harry Potter was his new favourite thing.

Even later: “Oh, of course it's Quirrel. Of fucking course! And he was faking the stutter the whole time. Naturally.”

Voldemort revealed himself, much to Jason's disgust. Then:

“The hell do you think you're gonna do, Harry? Glare him to—oh. Okay. That's new. Oh, great. Vapour Voldemort. And... is Harry dead? The hell just... no, he's alive.”

“There are seven books and eight movies, Jay,” Dick replied. “Harry's not allowed to die yet.”

“Shh.” Jason was pretty quiet for the rest of the movie, though he grumbled a bit when he found out Harry had to return to the Dursleys.

The credits ran and Artemis turned it off.

M'gann hopped up. “Time for cake?” She floated over to Dick and held out her hand. “Come on, birthday boy.” Dick let her pull him to his feet.

Conner grabbed the matches from the counter and lit the candles. M'gann gently nudged Dick towards the cake, standing back herself on account of the fire.

Wally dramatically cleared his throat and led the others in a truly horrific rendition of _Happy Birthday_. It was ear-splitting. Dick had to hold onto the counter for support because he was laughing so hard. He nearly fell over when everybody—literally _everybody—_ screeched out the last note as if they were competing for who could shatter his eardrums first.

Dick wiped his eyes, trying and failing to get himself under control. “What the hell was _that_?”

“The sound of _love_ , babe.”

“I don't want it. I... _fuck_.” The giggles overcame him again and it was a solid two minutes before he calmed down enough to blow the candles out and cut the first slice. Wally accidentally-on-purpose nudged him so the knife hit the bottom.

“Oh no,” he deadpanned. “Now you have to kiss someone.”

Dick kissed Conner on the cheek. Wally put a hand on his heart and slumped over the counter.

“Betrayal,” he moaned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dick cut the rest of the cake and M'gann started transferring slices onto plates. “So, while we're on a Harry Potter kick...”

“I'll dig up the next one,” Artemis said, heading back into the living area. “Leave me a slice.”

“I'll take the small piece,” Dick said to M'gann.

“You sure?”

“I'm sure. Appetite's getting better, but I don't want to push it.”

“Okay.” M'gann passed him the correct plate. Dick grabbed a plate for Jason and nudged him out of the room.

Jason shoved a forkful of cake into his mouth. “What?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Dick replied.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“The mirror scene,” Dick said.

“I'm fine,” Jason replied. “I mean, it... you know... but I dealt with it.”

“Okay, good.” Dick squeezed his shoulder. “It wasn't easy for me to watch the first time. I... may have cried a bit, to be honest. I mean, it was a few weeks after my family died and I was eight. But still. Wanted to check in.”

“I... thanks.”

“No problem. Up for the next one?”

“Sure.”

They headed back in. Wally had already finished his cake and made another bowl of popcorn. They settled in to watch the movie. Dick managed to finish his cake without too much trouble.

* * *

They got through the third movie as well before calling it a night.

“Wow, it's gotten really late,” M'gann commented as Artemis turned off the entertainment system. “Why don't you all sleep here tonight?”

The others agreed, though Dick couldn't give a certain answer yet.

“I'll have to ask,” he said. “Be back in a minute.” He stepped out of the room and took out his phone, hoping Bruce wasn't too busy and that Dinah was still up.

M'gann followed him out. “What's up?”

“I'm on a tight leash,” Dick replied, finding Dinah's number in his contacts list. “Gotta call Dinah and Bruce to get permission to stay over.”

“Why Dinah? Wait. Is that prying? Sorry.”

“It's all right,” Dick replied, calling the number. “Long story. Maybe I'll explain in a minute. I don't know. It's kinda personal.”

“That's okay. Let us know what they say.” M'gann headed back into the living area.

Dick held the phone to his ear, just as Dinah picked up.

“Hello?” She sounded fairly alert, so he probably hadn't woken her up at least.

“Hey, Dinah,” Dick said. “It's Dick. Sorry for calling so late.”

“It's no problem,” Dinah replied. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything's fine. I'm still at Mount Justice. I've been asked to stay the night, but I thought I should run it by you first.”

“Who else is staying?”

“Everyone so far,” Dick replied.

“Have you asked Bruce?”

“No. I went to you first.”

“I'm flattered.” She was quiet for a moment. “If I say yes, you have to promise someone will be with you at all times.”

“I promise,” Dick replied. “I'm thinking I might give them a heads-up about, you know, stuff.”

“It's up to you,” Dinah said. “Make sure you ask Bruce. I'm happy for you to stay over if he is.”

“Thanks, Dinah.”

“Goodnight, Dick.”

“Goodnight.” Dick hung up and dialled Bruce's personal number reserved for family and trusted allies. If he was still in the field, it would be rerouted to his communicator.

“Did you need something, Nightwing?” A smack in the background. So he was still in the field. Not a surprise at this time of night.

“Just permission to stay at Mount Justice tonight.”

“Have you asked Black Canary?”

“She's okay with it if you are.”

A man in the background screamed, but stopped very quickly. Sirens sounded in the distance and Dick could hear the rush of wind through the speaker.

“You can stay,” Batman said. “Be back before lunch.”

“I will. Thanks, B. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Dick put his phone away and headed back to the others. M'gann was washing dishes while Conner dried them. Raquel, Artemis and Roy were arguing over something minor that Dick didn't really follow. Wally was munching on some leftover chips because of course he was.

Dick flopped down on the couch. “I can stay. With a few conditions.”

Wally fed him a chip. “Cool. Now help me finish these.”

“You're gonna hate yourself when you get up for a snack and can't find anything,” Dick replied.

“M'gann's hiding the good stuff.”

“Right.”

M'gann quietly poked into Dick's mind. **“Did you want to explain what that thing with Dinah was about?** **I mean,** **you don't have to** **.** **No pressure.** **”**

“ **I'll do it in a sec. Need a hand with the dishes?”**

“ **No, thanks. We're nearly finished.”** M'gann washed one last dish and drained the sink, floating back into the living area while Conner finished drying.

“I need to tell you guys something,” Dick said. They were his friends, his teammates. They deserved to know what had happened, and the effect it was still having on him.

“We are listening,” Kaldur said.

“You sure about this?” Wally whispered.

“I'm sure,” Dick whispered back.

“Is this about what happened at school?” Artemis asked.

“Yes,” Dick replied. “There's some stuff you wouldn't have heard.”

“Details have been pretty light,” Artemis told him. “All we know is Skinner did something bad enough to get tossed back in jail.”

Dick grimaced at the reminder. “Yeah, I was. I just—look. What I tell you guys can't leave this room. I'm disabling the camera for a minute. Batman'll understand.” He activated the holo-computer in his watch and turned off the security camera. “I'm not interested in sympathy or answering a lot of questions, okay? I'm dealing. I just think you guys should know, since it'll explain why I haven't been around much lately and it might affect my availability for missions when I'm back on the roster.”

“Go ahead,” Kaldur encouraged.

“Skinner got me alone after school a few weeks back,” Dick said, trying to keep his tone as matter-of-fact as possible. The last thing he needed was a breakdown in front of everyone. “He assaulted me. Again. I'd rather not go into details. He let me go at the end of it because, honestly, he was in a position where his word would be taken over mine, so there was no need to abduct me and risk turning the public against him.”

“Piece of shit,” Roy muttered.

“He's lucky he's safe behind bars,” Conner added.

“He's hardly safe,” Artemis replied. “Most criminals don't like pedophiles. As soon as the guards look away, he's gonna get the ass-kicking of his life.”

Dick sighed. He barely had the energy for this conversation in the first place, let alone enough to direct its flow now that it was out of his control.

“Guys,” Wally said on his behalf. “Dick wasn't finished.”

“We can discuss prison politics later,” Kaldur added. “Please continue, Dick.”

“Anyway, he said some things to me that got under my skin. Stuff about nobody believing me even if I did say something.” Dick's flow was gone, so he had to dig deep to find the nerve to keep talking. “I got home okay, but my head was in a bad place,” he continued, ignoring the anxiety knotting his stomach. “I tried to kill myself.”

“Oh,” M'gann said into the silence that followed.

“I'm doing better now,” Dick clarified. “Bruce and Jason found enough evidence to expose the jury-tampering that let the last trial fail. I've been helping decipher the data, which has improved my state of mind and I'm having therapy with Dinah.”

“That's good to hear,” said Raquel.

“I'm not allowed around weapons without supervision,” Dick continued. “Been bouncing between Wally's place and Bruce's penthouse in the Wayne Enterprises building because of that. The Batcave's more or less out of bounds, which makes the manor about ten times harder to deal with. We had to run my visit here past Dinah because of the weapon access issue. And I'm not allowed to be alone tonight.”

“I'll take care of it,” Wally replied.

“I'm sure you'll hate every minute of it.”

Fortunately, Wally caught onto Dick's feeble attempt at a joke and played along immediately. “True. But I will do my duty.”

“I heard Nightwing and a few friends saved Barbara and her dad for a corrupt policeman the other day,” said Artemis. “Slipped your leash for a few minutes?”

“Batman and Robin were in the middle of another fight,” Dick replied. “Wally and I didn't ask permission. We just told Bruce we were going. To his credit, Bruce let it happen as long as we brought Black Canary. And he only yelled at me for a few minutes afterwards. I expected at least an hour.”

“I guess he was just relieved no one died this time,” Wally added.

“Anyway, things are looking up,” Dick said. “The commissioner isn't gonna get charged for crimes he didn't commit, the real puppet-masters have been identified, and we're getting a new trial in the new year.”

“It's about time,” Jason said. “I thought we were going to be knee-deep in bullshit forever.”

“Oh, don't worry,” Dick said. “I'm sure something new will have us beating our heads against the wall in no time.”

Members of the team began trickling away soon afterwards. Dick and Wally stayed on the couch for a bit while M'gann tidied up in the kitchen.

“Are you ready for bed?” Wally asked Dick, who'd curled up against his side again.

“Not yet.” Despite his words, Dick yawned. “Maybe in a few minutes. Gonna let my brain put some distance between everything we just talked about first.”

“ **I did notice your thoughts were a bit off when you arrived,”** M'gann said through the link. **“I wasn't trying to pry, I promise. Sometimes I pick up on people's feelings by accident.”**

“ **It's all right, M'gann. I know you didn't mean anything by it.”**

“ **It all** **makes sense now,”** M'gann continued. **“I'm sorry he hurt you again.”**

“ **Not as sorry as he's gonna be,”** Dick replied. **“But thanks for saying it.”**

M'gann finished up in the kitchen. “I'll leave you two alone,” she said aloud. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, M'gann,” said Wally.

“Goodnight,” Dick said as M'gann floated out of the room.

“Are you all right?” Wally asked Dick.

“I think so,” Dick replied, snuggling closer. “Not my favourite topic. Might have the nightmares anyway. Sometimes they're worse when I talk about it.”

“I've got your back.” Wally rubbed his thumb across Dick's ribs. It kind of tickled, but not enough to do anything about it. Dick uncoiled himself enough to reach Wally's lips for a kiss.

“You always do,” Dick said fondly.

That kiss gave way for another, and another, and before they knew it, half an hour had passed and drowsiness had begun to set in.

Wally cradled Dick in his lap, where the boy had climbed at some point during their impromptu makeout session. “Think we should go to bed?”

“Mm. Probably.” Dick didn't feel like moving. Wally got the memo.

“All right, then.” He shifted Dick more securely in his arms and stood up, carrying Dick to his room. “You're getting heavier.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It's a compliment, babe.”

Dick leaned out of Wally's hold to type in his security code. “I know. I'm being silly.”

Wally stepped inside Dick's quarters and gently placed him on the bed. “I noticed you've started lifting weights again. I'm amazed you haven't pulled your stitches yet.” He passed Dick a pair of pyjama pants and stepped into the closet to change his own clothes.

“Maybe I have and I just haven't told you.” Dick tossed his jeans aside and pulled them on. “I'm decent.”

Wally stepped out of the closet as Dick burrowed under the blankets. “Don't pull your stitches,” he chastised, albeit mildly. “I don't wanna hear you complaining about your arm for weeks on end.”

“Shush. Sleep time now.”

Wally climbed into bed. “Whatever.”

As always, the nightmares weren't fun, but Wally helped him manage the aftermath. Both of them were fairly well-rested the next morning. They headed to the kitchen where M'gann was making pancakes for the rest of the team.

“Hey, guys,” she said. “Wanna join us?”

“Sure,” Dick said. “We've got time.”

He and Wally joined the team in the dining room. It didn't get much use, except for days like this when everyone ate together. Most days, meals were taken on the bench in the kitchen.

Dick poured himself a generous glass of orange juice. “'Morning, guys,” he said brightly. The nightmares from the previous night hadn't quite faded yet, but he felt strong enough to ignore them.

Artemis grabbed some toast and wrapped it in a napkin. “'Morning,” she said. “Gotta check on Mum. I'll be at your party later. Getting a ride with Barbara.”

“All right,” said Dick. “See you.”

She dashed out the door.

M'gann brought two plates of pancakes to the table. “This one is blueberry.” She said, setting one down. “This one's plain.” She set the other one down. “Enjoy.” She took a seat next to Conner, naturally.

Dick grabbed a blueberry pancake and picked at it while the others ate and chatted around him.

Roy was regaling Jason with stories of Ollie's ridiculous trick arrows. Raquel was talking to Kaldur about testing the limits of her shield's ability to strengthen with kinetic blows while Zatanna butted in occasionally to offer suggestions on how to stretch those limits through use of her magic. Conner was eating quietly.

M'gann initiated a private telepathic conversation with Dick. **“You're agitated, but you're pretending nothing's wrong.”**

“ **Just coming down from a nightmare or ten. It's normal.”** Dick poured a little syrup on his pancake. **“This is actually a good morning for me. I haven't had a breakdown yet.”**

“ **That's awful, Dick.”**

Dick shrugged. **“That's a fair assessment.”**

“ **Is there anything I can do?”**

“ **I don't think it's a good idea for a telepath to dig too deep into my brain right now,”** Dick replied. **“It could end badly for both of us. But thanks for offering.”**

Dick managed to finish the pancake, but decided against risking a second. He had to save room for Alfred's cake this afternoon. Wally was more than happy to pick up the slack.

“So what's this party Artemis was talking about?” M'gann asked out loud.

“My other birthday party with the family,” Dick replied, setting down his knife and fork. “Barbara Gordon and Arty are coming because they're the only classmates I can stand. I think Lucius Fox might be dropping in, too. He's been wanting to meet Wally.”

“I am both intrigued and terrified,” Wally said.

“You'll be fine. You survived Bruce.”

“That's true.”

“Well, have fun,” said M'gann.

“Without us,” added Zatanna.

“Traitor,” said Roy.

Dick found himself genuinely laughing for the second time this week. He didn't miss how Wally's face lit up in response.


	33. Cabbage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick has his other birthday party at Wayne Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for flashbacks, nightmares, anxiety attacks, sexual assault of minors (it's a memory but it's highly vivid so I'd treat it as if it was actually happening).
> 
> Real life is weird. Show rehearsals make me die. Oh, and it's show week. And then once this show's over, we've got two weeks to prepare for another show and I don't want to. So that's why I've been scarce. I'm tired. Help.

Dick, Wally and Jason took the zeta tube to the manor around midday. Dick could deal with the manor with Wally at his side and, honestly, he didn't like the penthouse all that much. He only put up with it because he was too dependent on Wally's presence to make the manor tolerable, especially when he couldn't escape to the batcave. Having just stayed overnight at Mount Justice without incident, however, maybe he could persuade Bruce and Dinah to let him spend more time in the batcave under supervision.

Artemis and Barbara arrived in short order, having been driven by Commissioner Gordon. Barbara was using makeup to hide a bruise from Batgirl's recent fight with a mugger. Lucius arrived shortly after them. Dick was absolutely grateful nobody sang _Happy Birthday_ today. He just blew the candles out on the cake and was done with it. Wally still nudged him when he started to cut the cake, but Dick just stuck his tongue out and deliberately didn't hit the bottom. He gave him a kiss anyway, because he didn't need some weird party tradition to kiss his boyfriend.

Later, while they were eating the cake, Commissioner Gordon handed Dick an envelope.

“Janet asked me to give this to you,” he said.

“Gee, I'm flattered,” Dick said, opening it up to find a watercolour birthday card from Van Dorn. The soft colours were soothing to look at. “Tell her thanks for me.”

“I will,” Gordon replied. “I need to get back to the precinct. No doubt I'll run into her there. I swear she does more police work than some of my officers.”

“Well, if the whole District Attorney thing doesn't work out,” Dick said, “you could always offer her a job.”

Gordon chuckled. “I'll keep that in mind. Happy birthday, kid. I'll see you later.”

“Thank you, sir. Drive safe.”

Gordon headed back out to his car with a slice of cake wrapped in a napkin, courtesy of Alfred.

Dick spotted Wally and Lucius chatting about something. He let them be and sat with Artemis and Barbara.

“Staying out of trouble, I hope?” he said to them.

“Never,” Barbara replied.

“Speak for yourself,” said Artemis with her mouth full of cake. “I'm an angel.”

“Of course you are,” said Dick. “Punch anyone interesting lately?”

“She defended your honour at school the other day,” Barbara said.

“I wasn't gonna tell him that,” Artemis hissed.

Dick slowly chewed on a mouthful of cake, waiting for her to continue. He knew she wouldn't leave him hanging now that the jig was up.

“Okay, a senior was being an ass,” Artemis said. “He said some shit about you starting a smear campaign against Mr 'Smith'—” She did the airquotes, “—and I gave him what he deserved. No one reported it. I guess they were scared your dad would come and smite them.”

_Nobody will believe you_.

Dick tried to shake Skinner's words out of his brain. He didn't miss how Artemis elbowed Barbara very hard in the ribs.

He needed some air. He made some excuses, the exact wording of which he couldn't remember later, and went through the kitchen to a door that led to a little vegetable garden Alfred had been cultivating for a few years now.

Dick sat among the cabbages, put his head between his knees, and breathed.

The door hinges squeaked and the grass crunched under someone's shoes.

“It's me,” came Wally's voice. “Can I come closer?”

“No.” Dick kept his head down.

“Okay. I'm gonna sit right here.” The grass sighed and a joint in Wally's body cracked. “Artemis told me what she said. This is a bad day, I take it?”

Dick breathed. Skinner's voice was still there, hovering at the edges of his consciousness.

“Are you having flashbacks?”

Dick nodded.

“All right. Focus on my voice. What kind of flashbacks are you having? Visual?”

Dick shook his head.

“Just sound?”

Dick nodded.

“You can get through this. Just keep focusing on me, okay? I'm just gonna keep talking. I'm real. What you're hearing is in the past.”

_It's cute how you think your rich daddy can protect you from the consequences of being a lying little shit._

“We're sitting in Alfred's vegetable patch,” Wally said. “It's been raining. Can you smell it?”

_So confident. So brave. But I know how to break you._

Birds chirped in the tree nearby.

“Hear that?” said Wally. “I wonder what kind of bird that is? Bruce would probably know. The guy's got an encyclopedia in his brain, I swear.”

_I know what you fear. I know your limits. I know how much... persuasion... you need._

Dick could feel fingers digging into his chin. Skinner's fingers. A small noise escaped his lips.

“Babe?” Wally was still trying to keep his voice calm, but the strain broke through, just for a second. “You're gonna be okay. I'll talk to Bruce about letting you in the Batcave. Maybe we can chill in your treehouse—alcove—thing. Nest? We need to name that thing. Anyway, I think Bruce put another weighted blanket up there if you need the security.”

_My dear boy, you can tell as many people as you like. Nobody will believe you._

Dick could see Skinner's vicious grin. His moment of triumph.

“Dick, sweetheart.” Wally's voice sounded distant. “Come on, keep focusing on me.”

Dick pressed his fingers against his eyelids, as if that'd stop what he was seeing.

_Little boys can only cry wolf so many times before people stop believing them, Richard._

He could feel the pull on his hair, the sound of Skinner's trousers unzipping. He didn't want this. He didn't want to hear this he didn't want to be here he didn't

“It's getting worse, isn't it?” came Wally's voice, barely audible.

“Make it stop,” Dick whined. “Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it—”

“Dick,” Wally called. His voice was firm, and that cut through the mist. Just a bit. “Remember where you are. Wayne Manor. Alfred's veggie patch. Can you look up? Can you look at something?”

Dick didn't want to uncover his eyes. He didn't want to move his head.

“Dick, if you look at something, things might get better.”

He moved his hands away, but kept his eyes shut. Skinner was looming over him, holding him in place.

“Okay, step one down,” said Wally. “Now open your eyes. Come on, babe. I've seen you do this before. You can do it now. I know you can.”

Dick opened his eyes to see grass. Right. His head was still between his knees. And also looking up at Skinner while he...

“You're doing great, babe,” Wally encouraged. “Separate that memory from what's happening now. Find something to look at. Focus on it.”

Dick lifted his head. His eyes found a cabbage. It was green. It was more solid than Skinner's face, Skinner's...

Dick's lips cracked apart. “Cabbage.” His voice was hoarse.

“All right,” Wally said. “Tell me about the cabbage.”

“It's green,” Dick replied. “It's pretty big. Probably ready to harvest. Alfred told me Bruce used to hate cabbage as a kid.”

“Why'd Bruce hate cabbage?”

“Some kids are sensitive to bitter flavours,” Dick replied, still staring at the cabbage. “Bruce was one of them, I guess. It never really bothered me. I ate whatever my parents gave me. Except coconuts. I hate those.”

Skinner was a phantom, still present, but barely.

“Why do you hate coconuts?” Wally asked.

Dick shrugged. “I don't know. The texture's always bothered me.” He met Wally's eyes for the first time since this whole mess started. “What? There must be some kind of food you don't like?”

“Eh. I eat pretty much anything. Comes with being a speedster. If my energy's running low, I can't afford to be picky.”

“What about before you were a speedster?”

“I don't remember hating anything in particular,” Wally replied. “I still had a big appetite as a kid. Not as big as it is now, obviously, but grown-ups liked to say I had hollow legs to fit all the food in.”

“Sounds like you,” Dick said fondly. The worst of it was over now. It had taken a lot out of him. But the thought of resting terrified him.

“How are you doing?”

“Better,” Dick said.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Want me to call Bruce? I can ask him to let us in the Batcave.”

“I guess.” Dick half-wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but the other half of him cringed at the thought of sleeping ever again.

Wally made the call. Dick hugged his knees and didn't bother listening. Too much effort.

Some time later, Wally stood and offered Dick his hand. “Bruce said yes. We can get there from the kitchen. What is it with old mansions and secret passages? Not that I'm complaining.”

Dick let Wally help him up. They went back inside. Bruce was in the kitchen. He passed Dick a bottle of water and directed Wally to the secret passage behind the dumbwaiter. Dick knew the way, but he wasn't well enough to direct their path himself. The dumbwaiter could reach the Batcave as well, but Dick didn't like being cooped up in a small space even under normal circumstances.

Dick had downed half the bottle by the time they reached the drawing room and Wally opened the passage down to the batcave. He could still taste Skinner on his tongue, and it was making him nauseous.

Wally led him through the batcave and up the ladder to his little nook. Dick supposed coming up with a proper name would be a good idea, but he didn't have the brainpower to pick one today.

Dick curled up under the weighted blanket, plus a few normal ones. Wally sat on the end of the mattress; Dick wasn't ready to be held yet.

“How are you feeling?” Wally asked quietly.

“Sick.”

“There's a bucket up here somewhere...” Wally rummaged around somewhere out of Dick's line of sight for a few moments. “Found it.” He put it next to the mattress. “Can I get you anything else?”

“What snacks have you got?”

Wally checked his pockets. “Some heart candies and a lollypop. But are you sure eating's a good idea when you're feeling—”

“There's a taste in my mouth and I need to get rid of it,” Dick interrupted, hoping to hell Wally wouldn't ask him what the taste was.

Fortunately, Wally got the memo. “Gotcha.” He passed Dick the candies. “The lollypop will probably help the most.”

Dick nodded, unwrapping it. “Thanks.”

Wally sat on the end of the mattress again. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Dick shoved the lollypop in his mouth. What a great birthday party this had been. Barbara and Artemis were probably upstairs beating themselves up over it. If they were even still there. He had no idea what Lucius must've thought.

“Okay.”

Dick stayed in bed for the rest of the day. He didn't feel up to making the trip to Wally's house, so they spent the night in the Batcave. Bruce came to check on him before patrol.

“How are you?” Bruce asked, kneeling by the mattress. He was already in costume, minus the cowl.

“Tired. Can't sleep.” Dick had been eating candy almost non-stop since the first lollypop. Wally had asked Alfred to bring more after Dick finished everything he had on him. Alfred hadn't made a single comment. He didn't even do his sniff of disapproval. The candy probably hadn't helped with the sleep situation, but every time he tried to stop, the taste came back. He'd already thrown up once.

“Do you want me to make an appointment with Dinah tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Dick...”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Bruce, let me talk to him,” Wally cut in.

“The answer's no for you, too.”

“All right,” Wally said. “How do you feel about us telling Dinah what happened on your behalf? You don't have to talk about it before you're ready and she still gets kept in the loop.”

“Fine.”

Wally turned to Bruce. “There we go. A compromise. You should try it sometime, Bruce.”

“I'll keep it in mind,” Bruce said dryly. “Do you need me here, Dick?”

“No.” Dick wanted him to get the hell on patrol. Most of Skinner's people were in prison while awaiting the new trial, but a few of the clients had posted bail. On top of that, Barbara was probably going to put Batgirl on again and Dick still wasn't happy about that. He'd feel slightly better with Batman keeping an eye on her.

“Alfred is upstairs,” Bruce said, getting up. “He'll get you anything you need. I'll check on you when I get back.” He headed down the ladder.

Dick pulled the blankets tighter around himself.

“Still feel sick?” Wally asked.

Dick nodded. He couldn't eat any more candy. He just _couldn't_. Now he had a stomach ache on top of this unshakeable nausea.

Wally stayed close throughout the night. Neither of them slept much, catching a few minutes here and there between nightmares that fed into waking flashbacks. Dick threw up several more times, acid burning his throat. Bruce, naturally, returned during one of these episodes and witnessed the whole thing. As if Dick didn't feel bad enough already.

Dick eventually settled into a proper sleep in the early hours of the morning, but he couldn't stay that way for very long. It hadn't even reached lunchtime before he woke again.

Wally, bleary-eyed and yawning, passed him a bottle of water. “Drink. How are you feeling now?”

Dick took several gulps of water before answering. “Better. Nausea's gone. Throat's killing me.” It felt like someone had forced him to swallow gravel.

“I'll bet. Can you handle food?”

“No.” Even the thought of food was enough to have the nausea creeping back again. He swallowed a few more mouthfuls of water. At least yesterday's taste was gone. He tried not to dwell on it. It'd undoubtedly come crawling back if he thought about it too much.

Wally cracked open another bottle of water and passed it to him as he finished the last. “How do you feel about travel today? Aunt Iris is home. She could pick us up from the zeta tube.”

“All right.” Dick didn't feel like staying in Gotham today.

“I'll get Alfred to bring you a change of clothes and pack your bag.” Wally made the phone call. Dick kept drinking. He hadn't been able to tolerate water when the vomiting had gotten really bad last night, and now his mouth felt like he'd been eating sand. In addition to tasting like a sewer.

Alfred brought his bag, clothes and a damp washcloth shortly thereafter. He and Wally left Dick to get changed. Dick appreciated Alfred thinking to bring the washcloth. He'd sweated a lot the previous night, in between the nightmares and the flashbacks and a whole lot of puking, but bathing was a little beyond his capabilities today. He swiped the cloth over the worst areas and put on the clean clothes. He gargled some mouthwash in a bathroom in the batcave and he and Wally headed through the zeta tube to Central City.

Iris was already waiting in the car. “'Morning, boys.”

Wally managed to conjure up a smile and a greeting for her. Dick tried, but found he didn't have the energy. Iris didn't question either of them—she didn't point out the strain in Wally's smile, or the fact Dick hadn't managed one at all. She didn't mention the bags under their eyes, or the careful physical distance they maintained between each other.

Iris talked during the short car ride. Dick and Wally didn't.

“Barry's got his hands full today,” she said. “A few CSIs are off sick so he's had to take over some extra cases. He probably won't be home for dinner. At least he's getting paid overtime.”

They reached the house in a matter of minutes. Wally carried Dick's bag for him and removed the chargers, earphones and Nightwing equipment. It was more of a formality than anything at this point—Dick hadn't felt the need to hurt himself in a while—but until Dinah gave the word, it was better to keep being safe.

Dick sat on the bed in Wally's room and kind of just... stared into space for a while. Until Wally returned from storing his things.

“Hey,” Wally said. By God, he really looked exhausted. “Do you mind if I take a nap? I'll get the air mattress.”

“Go ahead,” Dick replied. He wasn't going to be exciting company today anyway.

Wally dug the air mattress out of his closest and used a manual pump to fill it.

“Sooo,” Dick said, “want an electric pump for Christmas?”

Wally snorted. “Nah. Iris hates them because they're loud. And break.”

“I could probably get someone at Wayne Enterprises to develop a quiet pump with a long warranty.”

“You probably could. But I'm happy doing this by hand. Great exercise.” Wally flashed him a grin. “Thanks for offering.” He finished pumping and put the pump back in his closet. He grabbed a pillow and a blanket and flopped face-down into bed. He was snoring in seconds.

Dick curled up on the proper bed. He was pretty tired, too. Maybe the distance from Gotham would help him sleep better.

* * *

Dick woke later, anxiety gripping his chest. He couldn't remember his dream, only that it was awful. His breathing was loud as it hitched into sobs and he pressed his hands over his mouth to muffle it without much success.

Wally was still sleeping. Dick couldn't wake him. It was his fault he was so tired in the first place.

Dick slid off the bed and hurried out of the room. He faltered in the hallway, still trying and failing to control his breathing. His eyes were getting in on the action now, blurring with tears that he really didn't want to shed. He was breaking down again and he couldn't stop it, but he had no idea where he could go to deal with it in private.

Iris chose that moment to come around the corner. Dick's hands were still over his mouth, not that they were doing anything there.

“Dick?” Iris stopped at the top of the stairs. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Dick shook his head. He wasn't. He really wasn't. Iris took a few slow steps towards him and held out her arms. Dick stepped into them and let her hold him, letting the tears fall against her shoulder. Iris smoothed down his hair and whispered words of consolation he couldn't quite hear. But the tone of her voice was comforting in its own right.

She held him until his breathing evened out and then gently led him through the house. She sat him down in the kitchen and poured him a glass of water.

“Mind if I ask what you were doing in the hallway?” she asked, pushing the glass towards him.

Dick took a few sips before answering. “Wally's asleep. I didn't want to wake him.” His voice cracked, and his vision blurred with the threat of new tears that he forced back. Enough.

“I see.” Iris placed a kettle on the stove. “Tea?”

“Do you have chamomile?”

Iris pulled a box out of the overhead cabinet. “I do indeed.”

“Lucky me.”

Iris dropped a teabag of the chamomile into Dick's mug and a different one into hers. “Did you want to talk about what happened upstairs?”

“Nightmare,” Dick replied. “I don't remember it. Makes a nice change.” The anxiety was still there, clawing at his insides. It would be all too easy to burst into tears again. “I'd... rather not talk about it.”

“All right.” The kettle squealed and Iris poured water into their mugs. She brought them over and sat with Dick.

“Hey, a tea party.” Wally was up.

“The kettle should still be hot if you want to join us,” said Iris.

Wally grabbed a teabag—probably whatever he found first—and tossed it into a mug. He poured his water and made to return to the table, but stopped. He'd noticed Dick's face.

“Babe?”

“I'm fine,” Dick replied. “Crisis over.”

Wally sat on Dick's free side. “I slept through it?”

“I left the room. Didn't want to wake you.”

Wally sighed. “Dick.”

Dick avoided his eyes; his tea was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. “You were tired.”

“No more than you are.”

Dick could feel the lump in his throat warning him to stop the conversation before the tears came back. “Wally.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut against the threat of a second onslaught. “Drop it. Please.”

“Wally,” Iris said. “He doesn't want to talk about it.”

Wally relented. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” Dick swallowed back the tears with a mouthful of tea. The chamomile hadn't hit his system yet. He wished it'd hurry up.

“How do you about touching now?” Wally asked.

Dick took a sip of his tea. “Depends on what you had in mind.”

“Just hand-holding.”

“I'm good with that.” Dick reached for the hand Wally offered him.

He wasn't about to admit how quickly that small amount of contact helped stabilise him. He still hadn't gotten over the mortification from yesterday. God, he would have to talk to Barbara and Artemis. He could barely handle _thinking_ about it.

Dick drank the last dregs of his tea and rested his head on his forearm. He was still tired. That nap had done nothing for him except, perhaps, drain him even further.

“Question,” Dick said, not bothering to lift his head. “How bad would it be if I consumed my weight in caffeine?”

“Bad,” Iris replied.

“That much would send _me_ bouncing off the walls,” Wally added. “For all of five minutes before my metabolism caught up with me, but still. Don't do it.”

“Point taken.” Dick couldn't hold back a yawn. “Sleeping's just... yeah.”

“It'll get better again,” Wally promised. “You've gone through this before.”

“I love repeating history,” Dick muttered.

Wally squeezed his hand. “Alfred gave you a book to read for homeschooling the other day, didn't he?”

“Wally, my eyes feel like sandpaper and I can barely concentrate at the best of the times.”

“I'll read to you,” Wally offered.

“How are your eyes not hurting?”

“I got more sleep than you did.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Dick let Wally pull him to his feet.

Iris grabbed their empty mugs and rinsed them out in the sink. “I'll be around if you need me.”

“Thanks, Iris,” Dick said. Wally led him back to his room.

“Where'd you want to go?” Wally asked, digging the novel out of Dick's bag.

Dick sat on the bed, straightening out the blankets he'd tangled while thrashing about in sleep. “Here's fine.”

Wally sat beside him and started on the first chapter. Dick's head quickly dropped to rest on his shoulder. He tried to read along for a bit, but his eyes really were sore and it was easier to just close them. A chapter later, they climbed into the centre of the bed, Dick lying in Wally's arms. He missed the second half of that chapter, having slipped into a doze.

He jerked awake not long afterwards. Wally had put the book on his bedside table.

“Hey,” he said quietly, brushing hair out of Dick's face. “You okay?”

Dick nodded. “Nothing happened. Didn't get into a deep enough sleep.” As comfortable as he was, as easy as it would be to fall back asleep, he didn't want to risk it. The nightmares were too much on top of everything else right now.

Wally ran his fingers over Dick's tensing shoulders. “What's wrong?”

“I'm pondering how long I can stay awake before I start hallucinating.”

“You know that'll end badly, babe,” Wally replied.

“It's still tempting.”

“I know.” Wally massaged gentle circles into Dick's shoulders until he relaxed.

Dick melted against Wally's chest. “I need to talk to Dinah.”

“Do you need more time? You were pretty adamant yesterday.”

“I think my need to deal with this overrides my need to pretend it never happened. Today, at least.” Dick grabbed grabbed his phone off the bedside table and Wally sat up a bit for so he could to lean back against him. Dick dialled Dinah's number. She picked up after a few rings.

“Hi, Dick.” There was an explosion in the background.

“Busy?” Dick asked.

“I can talk and fight at the same time.” There was a loud smack and a man screamed. “What's up?”

“Are you available later?”

“For an appointment? Sure.” Something shattered over the phone line. “I can come after four. Where are you?”

“Barry and Iris's,” Dick replied. “Are you winning?”

“Of course I am.” Her breath came out in puffs for a few seconds. “There. All done. I'll have to clean up and I'm scheduled to train the team at three. You're welcome to attend if you like.”

Dick considered it, but he really wasn't up to talking to Artemis yet. It wasn't personal. He just couldn't deal with the discussion they would need to have. And groups of people probably weren't a great idea when he was sleep-deprived.

“I'll pass,” Dick said. “Maybe I'll go to the next one.”

“That'll be Wednesday, after school.”

“If I'm up to it, I'll be there.”

“Excellent,” Dinah said. “I've got to deal with these fine specimens of humanity. Did you need anything else?”

“Nah, I'm good. See you after four.”

“See you.” Dinah ended the call.

“She's coming at four,” Dick told Wally, and settled down to rest for a bit. He didn't fall all the way asleep, because he was too anxious for that, but at least he felt a little refreshed by the time Dinah arrived.

Iris and Wally ducked out to run some errands together, leaving Dick and Dinah to talk in the living room. Dick curled up on the couch with a blanket.

“I heard about yesterday,” Dinah said to him. “Did you want to talk about it?”

“There's not much to say,” Dick replied. His voice came out painfully quiet, but he didn't have the strength to raise it. “Artemis told me she punched a classmate for defending Skinner and it set me off. It was just auditory at first, but then it spread to all the other senses. I was eating candy for hours afterwards, trying to get his... _taste_ out of my mouth. And I had nightmares when I finally got to sleep, and then more flashbacks. And I threw up a lot.”

“How are you today?”

“Tired.” Dick's voice cracked again, and he hated himself for it. “I still can't sleep. I tried. Woke up freaking the hell out and then I cried on Iris. And I can't eat anything. I had some tea earlier, but that's the most substantial thing I've had all day.”

“All right.” Dinah made some notes. “We're going to get you through this. Setbacks are a perfectly normal part of the healing process.”

Dick only laughed so he wouldn't start crying again. “Great.”

“Take a deep breath, Dick.”

It hitched several times on the way in and shook like hell on the way out. Dinah had him repeat it several times until it steadied. He felt slightly more in control of himself.

“Here's what we're going to do,” Dinah told him. “We're going to keep you out of Gotham until the worst is over. You'll be more likely to bounce back if you're not looking over your shoulder all the time. If Barry, Iris or Wally aren't available at any point, you can stay with me in Star City. We can come up with other options in case I'm not available for some reason. I won't talk to anyone without your permission.”

“I don't want to cause trouble for anyone,” Dick said quietly.

“You won't,” Dinah reassured him. “I'm offering because I want to help. The same goes for Wally and his family, and anyone else we agree to ask.”

“I just...” Dick breathed. “Everyone is bending over backwards for me, and I can't do anything to return the favour. I don't like it.”

“Being dependent on people can be uncomfortable,” Dinah said, “especially in our line of work. We're used to being the protectors and caretakers, and we often make terrible recipients.”

“You can say that again,” Dick muttered.

“Nobody's judging you for it,” Dinah told him. “Not for needing to rely on people, and not for feeling uncomfortable with it. None of that makes you weak. Everyone needs someone else at some point in their lives, especially when they're unwell. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder is an illness that affects your quality of life. You have every right to rely on the people around you to get through it.”

Dick felt something in him unwind. “You're right. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. The fact you're able to accept what I'm telling you is a sign of improvement in itself.”

“I don't know if I'd go that far,” Dick replied, trying for humour.

Dinah gave him an exasperated look.

“Did you learn that look from Alfred or did it develop naturally from dealing with teenage superheroes all the time?” Dick asked.

“It developed naturally from dealing with Ollie and Roy,” Dinah replied.

“Right. Yeah. I can see that.”

“All right, we're getting off topic,” said Dinah.

“It's more fun than being on-topic,” Dick replied. Dinah's look was back. “Okay, I'll behave. Please stop looking at me like that.”

“I'll try.” Dinah skimmed over her notes. “Okay. So. Did you want to talk about the nightmares?”

And the anxiety was back. Hooray. Dick breathed through it.

“I'd be happy never talking about them again,” he said. “Or experiencing them again. Or sleeping again. Yeah.”

“There are treatments we can try to help deal with them,” Dinah told him. “I wouldn't advise trying them today while you're in a bad place, but we can arrange another time to give them a shot. We can also try medication if the problem persists, which will also help your other symptoms.”

“Yeah, I'm not sold on the medication thing,” Dick replied. “I get that it could help me get to a place where I can recover more easily, but it could also cause problems when I'm back in the field, especially if any team missions go longer than planned. The last thing I need is to go into withdrawal because I've run out and we're in the middle of a crisis.”

“We can try the other treatments first,” Dinah agreed. “What I'd be interested in trying with you is something called imagery rehearsal treatment. We take a recurring nightmare and change how it plays out. It's a form of cognitive behavioural therapy.”

“And that works?”

“There have been a number of studies that say it can,” Dinah assured him.

Having to relive the nightmares, even if it was to alter them, wasn't exactly on Dick's list of favourite ideas. But, he supposed, Dinah wouldn't suggest it if she didn't think it would help.

“Okay,” he said. “I'll give it a shot. If I don't have a heart attack first.”

“I'll brush up on my first-aid, just in case,” Dinah replied. “If you're planning to attend Wednesday's training session, we could schedule therapy after it. You might feel relatively relaxed then. We can push it back if you think it's too soon.”

“I'd rather get it over with,” Dick said.

“All right.” Dinah scribbled on her notepad. “I'll pencil you in.”

Dick snorted. “That's such a Brucie Wayne thing to say. Actually, he'd have his secretary do it. Either way, it hurts my soul.”

“I can't help with that.”

“Then what are you even good for?”

“Brat,” Dinah said fondly. “All right, let's talk about one more thing and I'll set you free.”

“Let me guess,” Dick said. “Food.”

“Yes. You told me you hadn't eaten today.”

“I spent a good chunk of last night throwing up,” Dick reminded her. “I don't think eating's going to happen today.”

“That's fine,” Dinah said. “I asked Iris to find a few things while she was out. We're going to keep your nutrition in the best shape we can until you're feeling better. I'll check in with you on Wednesday before we try the treatment.”

Iris and Wally returned shortly thereafter and Dinah left him in their care. Dick managed a glass of orange juice and one of the nutrient-rich icy poles Dinah had obviously directed Iris to find. He felt a little better afterwards. He still didn't get much sleep last night, and instead took a few short naps here and there so he wasn't asleep long enough for the nightmares to get a grip on him. Wally adapted to the change better than he did.

Dick spent the schooldays at various places around the country. He stayed at Clark's on Monday, reading over his shoulder as he wrote articles from home on his laptop. The television was tuned into a news program, just in case something happened in the city that required Superman's attention. He'd probably hear it from the city itself anyway, but it never hurt to be safe.

“Exciting stuff,” Dick said, giving up on reading Clark's writing and sprawling on the couch instead. He made a token effort to avoid kicking Clark, who was sitting on the other end.

“I am fluent in sarcasm, Dick,” Clark replied, editing out a typo. “I've been working with Bruce and Lois for years.”

“And you're still alive. That's better than I've done.”

Clark sighed at him. “ _Really_ , Dick?”

“Sorry,” Dick said, trying not to laugh at his reaction. “Couldn't resist.”

“Barry warned me you might do that. I should've listened more closely.”

“Who even listens to Barry?”

“Other than himself? Probably Hal.”

Dick padded barefoot into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of Crocky Crunch. He didn't bother with milk. That would just complicate matters. He threw himself back on the couch and slowly picked at the cereal. He felt less sick today.

He spent Tuesday and Wednesday at Dinah's place in Star City, with Diana dropping in for lunch on both days. Jason sent Dick some very jealous texts over that.

He and Dinah took the zeta tube to Mount Justice in costume on Wednesday afternoon. Batman was there, and he'd brought Batgirl.

“Hello again,” Dinah said, now Black Canary, holding out her hand for Batgirl to shake. “I don't know if you remember me.”

“You saved me and my dad,” Batgirl replied, shaking her hand. “Of course I remember.”

“Batgirl needs training,” Batman said.

“I'd be happy to include her today,” Black Canary replied. “Let's get the rest of the team in here.”

“So, fancy meeting you here,” Nightwing said while Black Canary sent out a call for the team to assemble.

“Long time no see,” Batgirl replied. “Still not patrolling?”

“Long story,” Nightwing told her. “I might tell you one day. Permission pending. Are you joining the team?” He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Obviously Batman thought she was competent enough to be considered, which wasn't insignificant. But this line of work was dangerous, and Barbara was one of his few friends in the civilian world. The thought of her getting hurt was a bit much to bear right now.

“I'm considering it,” said Batgirl. “I don't know. This is bigger than I was planning.”

“This is just a trial,” Batman said. “If Batgirl does well today, she may eventually join the team.”

The rest of the team filed into the chamber and Black Canary set up the training program. “Hello, everyone. We have a new member today. This is Batgirl. Be nice. We want her to come back.”

Nightwing was getting stronger, though the last couple days of working through his relapse hadn't helped him work on his stamina. Batgirl had him on his back in less than a minute.

“Not so tough against someone who can actually fight, huh?”

“Oh, ha ha.” Nightwing groaned. His ass had hit the floor hard enough to bruise. “Do you always hit people when they're down?”

Batgirl held out her hand. “No, just you.”

Nightwing dragged her down with him. “Ha! Never let your guard down.” He sprang to his feet and pushed Batgirl over when she did the same. She grabbed him as she fell and they landed in a heap.

“Quit messing around, you two,” Black Canary called.

“Okay,” Nightwing called back. He jerked Batgirl's cape over her head and ran away before she could untangle herself. Black Canary knocked him off his feet with a well-placed canary cry and had them swap partners. Nightwing had no regrets. Batgirl paired with Miss Martian, which was probably a good idea. M'gann loved new people. Nightwing voluntarily went with Artemis as a sort of olive branch, considering they hadn't really spoken since his birthday.

“Long time no see,” Artemis said, lashing out with a half-assed kick that Nightwing easily dodged.

Nightwing sent a kick back her way. “Come here often?”

Artemis blocked and punched. “More than you.”

Dick blocked the punch. “That's true.”

The two of them watched Miss Martian telekinetically nudge Batgirl with a cardboard box, gradually increasing her speed and force as Batgirl got a handle on her opponent's abilities.

“So, Barbie Girl's joining the team,” said Artemis.

“It's a possibility.”

“You don't sound excited.”

Dick shrugged. “She's one of the few friends I have who isn't a crimefighter. I kind of wanted it to stay that way. Not my call, I know, but I'm worried she's gonna get hurt.”

“You're one to talk, Nightzombie.”

“Funnily enough, dying and coming back to life hasn't made me any more comfortable with the thought of my best civilian friend putting her life on line.”

Artemis landed a punch to his midsection. “Ha! Got you distracted.”

“Cute.” Nightwing lunged at her, not at all surprised when she dodged him.

“Anyway, get real. She's already out there and you'll just have to deal with it.”

“I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it.”

“Then help her be the best she can be. Then you'll have less to worry about.”

“I have some ideas on that front.” Nightwing blocked Artemis's attack. “Might have to wait a bit before trying them, though.” He finally landed a punch to the gut.

Artemis took a few deep breaths, evidently to get rid of the winded feeling. “So, about that party...”

“I'm doing better,” Nightwing replied, dropping the pretence of fighting. Everyone else was wrapping up anyway. “Shit happens. I'm not mad at either of you.”

“Was it bad?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“So it was bad.”

Well, if she wanted to hear it... “I threw up at least a dozen times that night and haven't slept properly in days.”

“Oh.”

Nightwing shrugged. “I tried to warn you.”

“You did. So you're not sleeping?”

“Nightmares,” Nightwing replied. “Black Canary's got something up her sleeve for it. We'll see how it goes. I scrounged up a few studies on the treatment and it looks promising, even if it's unlikely the nightmares will go away entirely.”

“Well, I hope it works. I guess an apology isn't going to do much.”

“It's fine, Arty. I don't blame either of you. I was just sensitive that day. Something else would've set me off eventually.”

“If you say so.”

Nighwing poked her mask. “I do say so.”

“What are you two chatting about?” asked Kid Flash, leaning on Nightwing's shoulder. Everyone had stopped fighting by now.

“The birthday from hell,” Nightwing replied. Batgirl was still out of earshot, but he kept an eye on her. He wasn't ready to reveal his identity to her. If he decided to go through with his ideas for helping her get a handle on Gotham vigilantism, that would probably change. But not yet.

“We should separate,” Artemis said. “Unless you want Barbara to know your identity. Which wouldn't be as much of an issue if you two lovebirds weren't so touchy-feely.”

“Good point.” Nightwing pushed Kid Flash off him. “Go look busy.” He himself headed over to where Batgirl was talking to Black Canary.

“You've got skills,” Black Canary was saying. “No denying that.”

“But...?” said Batgirl.

“You're still very green. You need more training. A lot more. It's no surprise the other bats have a heart attack whenever they see you in the field.”

“The heart attacks are mostly mine,” Nightwing said. “So thanks.”

“You'll live,” Batgirl said dryly.

“Be quiet, Nightwing,” said Black Canary, not unkindly. “Batgirl, you're welcome to join us for more training sessions in the future. Batman is also interested in having you train in the batcave a few times a week. Nightwing's still in recovery, so Robin could use a reliable training partner.”

“I feel like I should be insulted.”

“Yes, you should,” said Batgirl. “I appreciate the offer. I'll need to think about it.”

She was going to say yes. Nightwing could already see it in her eyes. They could help her prepare for the combat and detective sides of this life she was just entering, but preparing her for the outright dangers and actually getting her to understand them would be difficult without her directly experiencing them. She'd been attacked as a civilian many times, but had always come out of it in one piece.

Nightwing was a different story, and he needed to get that across to her. They needed to have a serious conversation about the horrors that came with this life, and he was nowhere near well enough to do it. But it would have to happen soon. It would mean more coming from him than it would from Batman, because he was the one who had died. He was the one who had been tortured and toyed with and violated in ways Batman hadn't. He had to be the one to have this conversation and make it stick. Batgirl had a better idea of the risks than most civilians, but Nightwing couldn't trust she understood it as well as she needed to. He certainly hadn't. Even after being Robin for a number of years, some things hadn't quite sunk in and that had played a role in his death.

“Nightwing?” Black Canary was leaning a little over him.

“I'm fine,” he said quickly. “Just thinking.”

“Please don't tell me you've started brooding like your old man,” said Batgirl.

Nightwing forced a smile on his face. “Well, you know what they say. Birds of a feather...”

“Bats aren't birds, genius.”

“Shh. Figure of speech.”

“Oh, you're so funny.”

“I know.”

Batgirl snorted. “You remind me of a guy from school.”

“Oh? Is he cute?”

“I'm going to walk away now,” said Black Canary. And she did.

“He's taken,” Batgirl said, “so my opinion's irrelevant.”

“I'll take that as a yes.”

“You really are insufferable.”

“You'd be surprised how many people tell me that.”

“No, I really wouldn't.”

Batgirl had to go home shortly afterwards. Wally had changed into his civvies in that time and peeled the mask off Dick's face as soon as she was gone.

“Thoughts?” Wally asked.

“She's talented,” Dick replied, tucking his mask into his belt. “She'll be fine with time and training. I'm more worried about her mental preparation.”

“She's the commissioner's kid,” Wally reminded him. “That's got to count for something.”

“I'm sure it does. But, I mean, how long has it taken Jason to get a grip on the dangers we're all facing?” Dick could still distinctly remember the night the kid had almost gotten killed by Harley Quinn. “And some parts of it didn't exactly sink in for me until I was facing down a bomb timer.”

“Sounds like you've got some ideas,” Wally said.

“They're probably bad ones. And nothing I can put into place until I've gotten a grip on myself.”

“Being kinder to yourself would be a great start.”

“Funny.”

“I wasn't trying to be.”

Dick petted his cheek. “I know.”

Wally poked Dick's face in return. “Staying at my place tonight?”

“Dinah's offering her couch for a while in case I need help with the treatment. I was thinking of taking her up on that a few nights a week. She'd probably be okay with it if you wanted to come with.”

“So you're doing that tonight?”

“Yeah, just in case the treatment makes the nightmares worse to start off with. You know how I get when I have to think about that shit in detail.”

“All too well, babe.”

Dinah came back from wherever she'd been. “Ready, Dick?”

“I'm never ready. Let's go.”

Wally kissed his cheek. “You'll be fine. I believe in you.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Dork.”

 


	34. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Wally's families share Christmas at the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE RETURNED.
> 
> There's a mild warning for the recollections of rape, but it's more implied than anything.

The first few nights after that therapy session were still marred by nightmares, but Dick made sure to set some waking time aside every day to practise changing the end of his most common nightmares as directed. By the time Christmas came around, he was sleeping a little better, even if the effects were sporadic. Dinah assured him it would keep improving over time.

He had accumulated enough sleep to be reasonably sociable on Christmas Day. Bruce had invited Barry and Iris to join them, so Wally didn't have to worry about bouncing between two different places. Wally being around meant Dick was able to spend time at the manor, so the celebration was held there. The old fireplace didn't get much use most nights, but Alfred always got it working for Christmas.

Alfred had also found them all the ugliest sweaters imaginable. Dick's sweater had Rudolf with a light-up nose. It was hideous and he loved it. Bruce had Santa on his. Jason's had brightly-wrapped presents. Wally's had light-up Christmas lights. Barry and Iris had a terrible couple's pair of sweaters that formed two halves of a Christmas tree. Alfred got away with wearing some fairly understated mistletoe patterns.

The group had just finished lunch in the dining room. Dick ate a whole sandwich. He'd probably feel sick later, but he felt pretty good for now as they headed into the sitting room to open presents.

“Hey, hey Bruce.”

“Yes, Dick?”

“Did you get me a pony?”

Wally snickered next to him.

“I got you better than a pony.”

“Two ponies?”

“Yes, Dick. I put two ponies in a box and put it under the Christmas tree.”

“Aww. I knew you cared.”

“I wish I didn't.”

Dick punched Bruce's shoulder and hurried into the sitting room before him. He wanted the seat near the fireplace. He got there a fraction of a second before Jason did.

“Ha! Too slow.”

Jason threw himself into the second-closest seat, opposite Dick's. “Sometimes I think you take this big brother thing way too seriously.”

“Hey, I've never been a big brother before,” Dick replied. “I've always been the baby.”

“You're still a baby,” Jason muttered.

“More of a _babe_ these days, but sure.”

“You disgust me.”

Wally squeezed onto the seat with Dick. “Well, he's not wrong Jason. He is a babe.”

“You also disgust me.”

Bruce pinched Jason's ear. “Be nice.”

“They're being gross.”

“You two, stop being gross.”

“We can try,” Dick replied.

“When have you ever tried?” Barry said.

“More than you'll ever know,” Wally replied. “You're welcome.”

“I believe you,” said Iris. “How are you doing today, Dick?”

“Pretty good, actually. Thanks for asking.”

“You're welcome, dear.”

Alfred began handing out presents now that everyone had taken a seat. “Please wait until everyone has a gift.”

“Wait, Alfred.” Bruce got out of his chair and quietly swapped one of the presents in Alfred's hand for a different one, whispering, “Give him that one first.”

 _Him_ turned out to be Dick, who got his gift last out of the group. Surprise, surprise, it was from Bruce. They all unwrapped their gifts together.

“Dude,” Wally said, lifting out an updated pair of goggles Dick had put together. “When did you even have time to make these?”

“I took over Ollie's workshop at Dinah's place,” Dick replied, unwrapping his own present. “I found some trick arrows so weird even Ollie decided to trash them rather than use them in the field. It was great. I sent pictures to Roy and Arty.”

“Send them to me,” said Barry. “I need some blackmail material.”

“Why on earth would you need to blackmail _Ollie_?”

“When _don't_ I?”

Dick snorted. “I'll send them to you later.”

“You're a gem, Dick.”

“I know.”

Dick got his present open. A small box with a set of car keys inside.

“It was going to be your birthday present,” Bruce said.

“But things went to hell before you could give it to me,” Dick finished for him. “Please tell me it's not a Ferrari or something. I don't need any more targets on my back.”

“It's a Volvo.”

“That'll work.”

“We'll get your licence in the new year.”

“Thanks, B. Does this mean I can drive the batmobile?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“ _No_.”

“What about emergencies?”

Bruce sighed. “I'll teach you the basics. That's all.”

“I can teach you to jack the tires if you like,” Jason offered.

“I've updated the security,” Bruce replied. “You won't get in this time.”

“I'll be the judge of that.”

Dick believed Jason could get into the car if he really put his mind to it. He'd had a lot more training since he'd successfully stolen several tires off the batmobile the year before. If Dick ever locked his keys in his new car, he'd know who to call.

Alfred distributed more presents. Jason opened a full boxset of all the Harry Potter books. Wally got the movies. Wally's present to Dick was a large, framed photo of himself.

“Cool, a dartboard!”

Wally laughed. “That's too precious to be a dartboard. Treasure my glorious face forever.”

“Thanks. I know exactly where to put it.”

“ _Not on a dartboard_.”

“I was thinking the nest-nook-thing in the batcave, but...”

“No dartboards.”

“Damn.” Dick kissed Wally's cheek. “Thank you. Really. I know I'm hard to get gifts for.”

“Yeah, what do you get the guy who could buy your whole neighbourhood and still have cash left over for pizza?”

Dick chuckled. “Maybe it'll help me deal when you're not around. And let's pretend I did not just say that because it sounded _way_ better in my head.”

“I think I'm gonna remember that, actually. It might make me feel better about leaving you alone.”

“Worrywart,” Dick said fondly as Alfred continued to distribute presents. The present Bruce had swapped out for the car keys didn't appear until the final round when everyone else had already finishing opening their gifts.

The package was thin. Dick could feel a slip of cardboard inside. He gently removed the wrapping to find a large envelope, the kind used for important documents.

“This was also supposed to be a birthday present,” Bruce said, sitting on the arm of Dick's chair. “It didn't seem right to dump it on you when you were unwell.”

That was a tactful way to put it. Dick opened the envelope and emptied its contents, separating a stack of papers from the piece of cardboard he'd felt earlier.

“Oh.” Adoption papers. Mostly filled out except for the adoptee consent form.

“We'll have a meeting with the judge in the new year so they can explain the process to you,” Bruce told him. “You can wait until after the meeting to decide whether you want to sign. The judge legally has to talk to you first before you sign anything anyway. But if you want, I can cancel the meeting. We don't have to—”

“Bruce,” Dick interrupted, trying to wipe his eyes without drawing attention to it. “Shut up.”

Bruce smiled weakly at him, and it was an unusual sight to say the least. “I just... I know Jason's adoption was a sore spot for you. I wanted to make it right.”

Dick leaned away from Wally to wrap his arms around Bruce's waist. “Thank you.”

“I didn't want to replace your parents,” Bruce said, stroking Dick's hair. “Maybe it was foolish of me, but that's why I didn't adopt you then, Dick.”

“I know, Bruce.” It had weighed on Dick at times more than he liked to admit. It was strange that it had once upset him that Bruce had chosen to adopt Jason but not him. Childish, really, considering their circumstances had been vastly different. He hadn't been thinking clearly at the time and all his insecurities had burst forth, feeding on something that could've been resolved with a simple conversation.

“You are my son,” Bruce said gently, and Dick lost the fight with his tears. “You've been my son for a long time. These papers are just a formality.”

“Thank you,” Dick repeated. “Dad.”

“Well, now you're going to make _me_ cry.”

Dick laughed wetly. “Good. Join me.”

Happy tears were nicer than the alternative, even if they made his eyes itchy and dry afterwards.

* * *

Dick and Wally slept in the manor that night. It was the first time they'd spent the night here in a while. Dick expected to feel anxious about it—well, more anxious than usual—but he was okay at the moment. It was nice to lie in a bed big enough for both of them to have their own space. He usually liked cuddling with Wally, but he definitely preferred when it was optional. Wally's bed at his house and Dick's bed in the batcave were both designed to be slept on by one person at a time; if they weren't pressed right up against each other, one of them would fall off. It was only funny about half the time.

“Are you planning to starfish all night?” Wally asked, staring down at Dick, who had flung himself spread-eagle across the bed five minutes ago.

“Probably.”

“All right. You do that.” Wally let out a massive yawn. “Gonna brush my teeth before I pass out.” Dick watched him climb off the bed and pad barefoot to the bathroom. “So,” Wally said over the sound of the tap, “got any plans for tomorrow?”

“Training,” Dick replied. “I need to dust off my tech skills. Wanna watch me hack into the FBI later?”

“No, Dick. That's illegal.”

“Only if you're caught.” Dick rolled out of bed. “Make room in there.” He stepped into the bathroom and shouldered Wally aside so he could grab his toothbrush.

“You should do something more constructive,” Wally said through a mouthful of toothpaste. “Didn't you used to play the accordion?”

“And the guitar,” Dick replied, squeezing out some toothpaste onto the brush. “Haven't done either for a while.”

“You should get back into it.”

Dick shrugged and shoved the toothbrush in his mouth. “I don't know. I haven't touched an instrument since before I died. Feels like a whole other life.”

“It doesn't have to stay that way.” Wally rinsed his toothbrush under the tap.

“I had let a lot of things go. It was the only way I could function for those two years I was away.”

Wally rinsed his mouth out with water and pressed a minty kiss on Dick's cheek. “Your parents taught you the accordion, didn't they?”

Dick nodded. That was the main reason he'd kept it up for so long. It wasn't the most useful skill to have in this city. Bruce turned out to like the music, oddly enough, so it became a bonding point between them as well as a way for Dick to feel connected to the family he'd lost.

“Maybe I'll ask Alfred if he's still got my old one,” he said. He didn't have the brainpower to look into it right now, but maybe he would when the retrial was over. People like the Joker and Skinner had taken enough from him already without stealing his hobbies. He set the thought aside; he wasn't in a good enough place to explore it fully. There were a lot of issues he couldn't deal with yet because they required more resilience than he currently had to spare.

It took him a few minutes to find his good cheer again. Wally didn't say anything about it. They lay side-by-side in bed, taking a little more time to enjoy how much space they had here.

“I swear I was going to get you a better present,” Wally said. “Like, I don't know. Something personalised. Like a macaroni picture of us.”

“Save it for our anniversary,” Dick suggested. “We could make one together as some kind of gross couple's thing.”

“I like the way you think, dude.”

“The time has come to accept our grossness.”

“Already done, babe.”

Dick laughed. It felt good. He felt good.

“Have I told you I love you lately?” he said.

“It's slipped out a few times,” Wally replied. “Not that I'm counting or anything. I love you too, for the record.”

“I'll make a note in my files. Then it'll really be on record.”

“Make sure you note how handsome I am as well.”

“I'll attach a photo. I'm not sure I can accurately capture your glory with words.”

Wally pretended to type on an invisible wrist computer. “ _Subject is also highly attractive. See attached photo_.”

Dick snorted. “That'll work.”

It was nice just getting to lie here and talk shit with each other, like the old days before everything went wrong. Except better because they hadn't been able to admit their feelings for each other back then. It gave Dick a little bit of hope that maybe things would be okay one day. There was still a lot to get through before then, but it could happen.

“Hey, Wally,” Dick said.

“Yeah, gorgeous?”

“Heh. You're sucking up to me now.”

“Wanna make sure my file is as complimentary as possible, babe.”

“You don't have to try. You're already there.”

“Aww.” Wally slid closer and planted a messy kiss on Dick's cheek. “Anyway, you were saying?”

Dick wiped saliva off his cheek, unable to stop a smile. “You ever think about the future?”

“Sometimes. It's hard to see it sometimes.”

“Yeah, I feel that.” It got hard to see past everything happening in the here and now at times, but Dick was in the mood for it at the moment. “Today's been better for it.”

“It has,” Wally agreed. “I was just thinking earlier what it'd be like next Christmas. Maybe I'd think of a better gift. Something useful. Like soap.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“Only when you forget to bathe.”

“Which is every few days at the moment.”

“The things we suffer for love,” Wally sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. If you're gonna get me soap, get me something that smells nice. It doesn't have to be manly, though preferably not too strong or people will start recognising Dick Grayson and Nightwing as the same person just by their smell.”

“I'll get you two different soaps. How's that for a secret identity?”

“Perfect.”

Wally chuckled. “I'm being distracting, aren't I?”

“I don't mind. It's nice.”

“But...?”

Dick sat up, shifting his pillow into a more comfortable position for sitting. “I was just thinking.”

Wally sat up alongside him. “About?”

“What it's going to be like after the trial.”

“Good thoughts or bad thoughts?”

“Good, mostly.” Dick shrugged. “It's going to be weird not having it hanging over me all the time.” Having the freedom to go out without necessarily having to look over his shoulder, or at least no longer having a logical reason for it. Being able to unpack everything going on in his head without worrying about needing to shove it all back in to function well enough the next time he had to face his rapists or recount the damn story for the next person who had to be told. Then there was the freedom to explore certain aspects of his relationship with Wally that they'd mostly had to leave untouched because he just didn't have the psychological capacity to deal with it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Wally said after Dick had been quiet for a while.

“I hope you brought a whole sack of them,” Dick replied.

“I'll crack open the piggy bank when I get home. What's on your mind?”

“Lots of things.” That wasn't helpful. “Sex is one of them.”

“Oh.” Wally had tensed a little. They didn't exactly have a good track record with anything even tangentially related to that.

“I'm not freaking out,” Dick assured him. “I was just thinking I might feel better about it once the trial's over, you know?”

“We don't have to have sex, Dick,” Wally said.

“I know,” Dick replied. “I know you'd never pressure me into it or anything. But I want to try it with you one day. I trust you.”

“I... thanks, babe.” Wally managed to smile a little bit, but he was still clearly on edge.

“We don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable, either,” Dick said quickly.

“No, it's not that. I just worry about you.” Wally laughed a little sheepishly. “I'm happy to do it when you're ready. I just think we'll have to take it slow. Like, really slow. Build up to it, you know?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dick didn't want to take it too slow, though. This was his life, his body, his sexuality. No one else got a say in it, with the only exception being Wally because this affected him, too. Enough people had taken control over Dick this past year. It was time he took it back.

“We've gotta make sure we're doing this for the right reasons,” Wally said. “Because this is about us, you know? It doesn't have to be about anything else.”

Wally had always been too good at reading him. Dick knew hanging onto the control thing wasn't great for him. He just wasn't ready to let it go yet. Maybe it was just as well they were leaving this until after the trial. He had some issues to work through first.

Dick slid his legs under the bedcovers. “You're right. I just get frustrated sometimes.”

“I know you do,” Wally said gently, getting under the covers himself. “You are getting better. You've just got to be patient with yourself.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dick reached over to the nightstand and switched off his lamp. “I just wish it was over already.”

“It should be,” Wally agreed. “But we're getting there.” He kissed Dick's forehead. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Merry Christmas, Wally.” Dick dragged his pillow into a better position. “I'm surprised Calendar Man didn't make an appearance. The night's still young, I suppose.”

“Well, he's going to show up _now_. Thanks for jinxing us.”

Dick yawned. “Batman's problem. I'm going to sleep.” Wally was still sitting up, so Dick dragged him down for a proper kiss. “Now are you going to sit there all night, or are you going to cuddle me? This is your one invitation.”

Wally clamped his arms around Dick's waist. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”


	35. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's now been three years since Dick was murdered. The people around him are, understandably, a little on edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: referenced sexual assault of minors and (also referenced) suicide attempts.

Dick had been training on the floor for quite some time by the time the new year came around. The time had come to return to the trapeze. He pretended not to notice Bruce rechecking the safety net every few minutes when the day came.

Dick took his time chalking up his hands. Wally was hovering, but not quite close enough to be annoying. Yet.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Weird.” Dick rubbed his chalky hands together. “I think I've grown since I last did this.”

Wally narrowed his eyes for a moment, staring at the top of Dick's head. “Yeah, actually. I think you have. I guess you had to hit a growth spurt sometime.”

Dick threw a puff of chalk in his direction, but is dissipated before it reached him. “Screw you.”

“Not until you're fifty.”

Dick snorted and took to the ladder. Aside from a short period of anxiety after his family had been killed, Dick had never been afraid of heights. That said, though, reaching the platform and looking down at how far he'd climbed was a little disorienting after spending such a long time on the ground.

He trusted the safety net. He knew Bruce would never let it fail. Bruce had always taken special care of it, being sure to replace and test it regularly. Dick rarely needed it, but it was nice to know Bruce was looking out for him.

Dick reached up to grab the trapeze bar. He could almost feel his father's lightly calloused hands on his, correcting his grip. It was all too easy to remember his mother waiting at the other end, bar in hand, ready to catch him when he took flight. His extended family—Aunt Karla, his cousin John, Uncle Rick—had watched from the bleachers.

It was a good memory, one that Dick refused to turn to sorrow. He pushed off the platform, his father's half-remembered voice whispering encouragements in his ear, and flung himself from one bar to the next. He let his body arc as the trapeze swung forward, twisting around at the apex to fly back to the previous one, adding in a few somersaults just because he could.

Just like riding a bike.

He got cocky, then, making his catches with his legs, twisting in mid-air. His somersaults were fine; he could do those in his sleep. But, overall, he was a little rusty. He missed one catch—one that should've been easy, if he was honest with himself—and plummeted down to the safety net.

The net bounced with the force of his impact, knocking air from his lungs but otherwise leaving him unharmed.

“Dude!” Wally streaked to the edge of the net. “You okay?”

Dick gave a thumbs-up. His breath hadn't quite returned yet. He sucked air back into his body and rolled off the net.

“Bound to happen,” he said breathlessly. “It's been a while.” He chuckled. “At least M'gann and Conner didn't have to save me from going splat this time.”

“You never mentioned that part,” Bruce said from the doorway. Dick hadn't paid him much mind, but he had probably been there the whole time.

“I didn't tell you I was going on that mission at all, remember?”

“I remember grounding you for a month afterwards.”

“And then you gave up after a week because you felt bad,” Dick replied.

Bruce started on a batglare, but didn't quite go through with it. “You promised never to speak of that again.”

Dick shrugged. “Oops.”

“I won't tell,” Wally said. “I'm still kinda scared you'll chain me in a secret dungeon for the rest of my life.”

“That won't happen.” Bruce walked off. “Probably.”

Dick laughed at the concern on Wally's face. “He was joking, Walls. Well, trying to.”

“His jokes sound the same as his threats,” Wally replied. “Why oh why do I always pick the hot people with scary dads?”

“I'd say Batman is a step up from Sportsmaster, at least,” said Dick.

“A trash can would be a step up from Sportsmaster, babe. I used to have nightmares about him kicking down my door with a shotgun.” Wally scoffed. “As if he'd use a shotgun. He'd beat me to death with a lacrosse stick.”

“I had a dream about Doctor Fate vaporising me once,” Dick replied. “I decided not to share that one with Zatanna. It didn't seem fair to remind her about her dad.”

“Probably a good call.”

Dick dipped his hands back into the chalk bucket. “Let's try this again.”

“Make sure you don't miss the net when you fall again,” Wally teased. Dick swatted his butt, leaving a white handprint behind.

* * *

Dick hadn't given much thought to the Joker lately, who, due in part to the severe pounding Batman had given him the last time they'd fought, was still holed up in Arkham. Dick knew Bruce kept tabs on him, but generally tried to stay out of it for the sake of his own sanity.

But Dick let himself slip on the tenth of January, the anniversary of his death, when he was staying at the manor because he felt safer further from the city on this particular day. Bruce found him in front of the batcomputer, the camera feed from Joker's cell on the screen.

“I know I should leave it alone,” Dick said to him.

“Arkham and the GCPD are on high alert,” Bruce replied.

“Yeah, I figured that out when they put the whole place on lockdown.” Dick watched the Joker pace the width of his cell. He was limping a little, which was satisfying to see. “Has he ever...”

“Done anything?” Bruce finished for him. “No. I broke his leg a week before the first anniversary. He got the message.”

“That'll do it.” Dick wanted to look away from the screen, but the Joker had started making faces at the camera and he just couldn't break eye contact. “That message might not hold now he knows I'm not dead, though.”

“I'll know as soon as anything happens.” Bruce reached past Dick and shut down the feed. “Even if he does try something, his injuries will slow him down.”

“Not if he's determined enough.” Dick still gazed at the screen despite the absence of the video. “I'm not worried for myself; I know I won't get back into patrolling tonight of all nights. But the Joker's whole thing with me was to get to you anyway, and he's got more options to choose from these days.”

“Robin doesn't patrol on a night like this,” Bruce replied.

“What about Batgirl?”

“I mentioned it last night.”

“Did she listen?”

“Probably not.” Bruce helped Dick up. “The team is training this afternoon, if you'd like to try.”

“Maybe I will.” It'd be good to see the team again. He didn't visit them as often as he should.

“Let's go upstairs,” Bruce said. “Wally said we're not allowed to let you brood while he's at school.”

Dick snorted, following Bruce upstairs. “That's your influence.”

“I don't brood.”

“Bruce, you are the poster-child of brooding. Embrace it.”

“He hardly needs encouragement, Master Dick,” said Alfred, who was dusting the room they'd entered from the batcave.

“You've got a point, Alf.”

Bruce waved his hand as if he could erase the conversation. “You haven't seen the new running track behind the manor, have you?”

“I don't get out much,” Dick replied.

“Want to try it out?”

Dick shrugged. “Okay.” He could sense a 'bonding session disguised as training' moment coming on. They used to do it with basketball games all the time. Then he'd died, and things hadn't been the same since.

They had to pile on the layers before heading outside. The cold bit at every inch of exposed skin. Bruce's nose was pink before they even reached the running track. Dick was shivering so badly he thought he as about to shake his top layer off. He rarely went outside these days, which had apparently wreaked havoc on his tolerance for temperature extremes.

They headed for the track at a jog to get the blood circulating. Dick felt slightly less frozen by the time they'd skirted around the pool building and down the grassy slope to reach the track. It was just as well Bruce had invested in a synthetic material; gravel would have been reduced to slush in this weather.

Despite the cold thoroughly stabbing Dick's throat and nostrils, it was nice to be out here. He and Bruce took a moment to stretch.

“I found a judge willing to visit the manor this week so we can sign the adoption papers,” Bruce said.

“Thanks,” Dick replied. He felt too exposed in the city at the best of times. Any energy he could've spent working on that was instead devoted to dealing with the manor.

“Do you still want it?”

“I do.” Dick put one leg ahead of the other and bent forward to stretch his calves, palms pressed flat against the track. “It means a lot to me. Let's not get weird about this.” Emotions were often awkward with Bruce, but awkward was better than the distance that fell between them whenever either he or Bruce couldn't deal with how they felt.

Bruce chuckled. “I'll try.”

They jogged.

“Wally was concerned about you,” Bruce said as they eased around a corner.

“I know,” Dick replied. He'd had to convince him not to skip school.

“Should he be?”

“You're not subtle, Bruce. I think I'm okay.” He didn't feel _bad_ , aside from his obsessive moment with the Joker, but he didn't exactly feel good either. It was like he was hanging from a ledge; he was strong enough to stay there for now, but it wasn't the safest place to be.

Bruce watched him, a frown ready as ever. “We don't talk about it much anymore.”

“We don't,” Dick agreed. It had been buried under a whole host of other problems, which, on top of shunting his death to the sidelines, also made it very difficult for him to discuss anything without falling apart. He'd only just started getting better on that front, but, with the retrial hanging over him, that was likely to change.

“We should,” Bruce said.

“Probably.”

“You used to talk more.” It didn't sound like an insult. “I could never shut you up.”

“Gotta be in the mood for it these days,” Dick replied.

Bruce had a look about him, the kind that usually resulted in him hiding out in the batcave for days. “I should've been more vigilant.”

“B, we've been over this.” This conversation made Dick tired. “I went after the Joker by myself while you were busy fighting and I forgave you for not saving me a long time ago.”

“I know.” Bruce didn't sound happy about it. “But when I brought you home from—”

“Do I want to hear this?”

“Dick, Ra's replaced your body with a latex replica. If I'd looked inside the coffin when I brought you home, I would've known you weren't in it.”

“Huh. I had wondered about that.”

“I just—I couldn't...”

“I get it,” Dick replied as soothingly as he could. He wasn't in the best state to be comforting anyone, let alone Bruce, but he owed it to both to them to try at least. “I don't like looking at dead people, either, especially when they're people I care about. Ra's would've known that.”

“He didn't, actually,” said Bruce. “He didn't expect me to know at a glance it wasn't you. He was working with the assumption I wouldn't perform an autopsy, not that I wouldn't look at you at all.”

“Can't say I like the idea of being cut open. Not that it would've mattered since it wouldn't have been me anyway, but, you know. Kinda gross.”

Bruce seemed to respond to the humour better than outright comfort, brightening a little as they continued down the track. But it only lasted a moment.

“Dick.”

“Yes?”

“The Pit. Was it as bad as Ra's—”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” The memories of green, drowning, burning, screaming, burst unbidden into Dick's mind and he regretted, not for the first time, that M'gann had needed to return that memory to him.

“He didn't say much,” Bruce said, registering Dick's interruption but apparently not what he'd actually said. “Only that it damaged you.”

“It did,” Dick replied. “I barely remembered it until M'gann reconstructed the memory to check my mind for indoctrination. With everything else that's happened, I'm not sure where it ranks on my list of Worst Experiences Ever, but it's definitely one of the most _painful_ things I've ever experienced. Might even top the list. I don't know. It's hard to compare it with what the Joker did, because the pain he inflicted on me and the pain I felt in the Pit are so different.” It was also hard to compare because Dick really, really didn't want to think about it enough to come to a conclusion. “Strange to think we've never talked about this before.”

“You weren't ready,” Bruce said, “and neither was I.”

The track was a little slicker up ahead. The pair slowed down to compensate.

“I wonder how much the Pit still influences me sometimes,” Dick said into the silence, “and how much it contributed to me developing PTSD.”

“There could be a link,” Bruce agreed. “We don't know much about the Lazarus Pits and how they can influence the mind over long periods of time, and it was a traumatic experience unto itself. None of that invalidates your condition.”

“I know,” Dick replied, “but thanks for saying it.” He could hear a ghost of the Joker's laugh, almost inaudible, and he had to resist the urge to cover his ears. “You know I still hear the Joker sometimes? Not much, but when I'm reminded of what happened...”

“Do you hear him now?”

“A little.”

“We'll take the shortcut up ahead,” Bruce said. His tone was jarringly matter-of-fact, but it was more of an effort not to panic than real distance. “We can be back in the manor in a few minutes.”

“It's not too bad,” Dick said, focusing extra hard on the trees and the feeling of his sneakers hitting the track and the cool air soothing his eyes.

“We're not taking chances today,” Bruce said firmly, steering Dick to take the right side of the fork ahead. “Take it easy.”

“Says the guy who thought taking me for a run would be the perfect time for a heart-to-heart.” But Dick let Bruce take him back to the manor. His nose was numb, so maybe it was for the best.

For a while, Dick was able to pass off his shakes as having been brought on by the cold. Several minutes into sitting by the fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa, however, the excuse wasn't holding water anymore. Bruce had him tucked into his side, rubbing the arm not pressed against his chest.

“Will you be up to talking to Barbara today?” Bruce asked.

“I'll be fine.” Dick took a long, fortifying draught of his drink. “It'll mean more coming from me.”

“It's okay if you change your mind later,” Bruce assured him.

“I know.” It was still nice to hear. “Thanks.” Everyone around Dick had been careful to preserve his autonomy as much as possible throughout these various shitstorms in his life.

“We forgot to watch _It's a Wonderful Life_ at Christmas,” Bruce said suddenly.

Dick shrugged. “Easy to forget when I haven't been around for a few Christmases, I guess.”

“You loved that movie. You used to pester me every Christmas until I watched it with you.”

“I was very young, B.”

“You're still young.”

Dick laughed, a little ruefully. “I don't feel it.”

Bruce squeezed him. “We should watch it. Maybe we'll find your lost youth on the way.”

Dick jammed his elbow into Bruce's ribs. “You're not funny.”

“I'm sorry. I tried.”

Dick drained the rest of his drink. “I'm gonna need more cocoa before I can deal with you trying to make jokes.”

“That can be arranged.”

“All right. Get the movie running while I grab some more of this from Alfred.”

Bruce ruffled his hair as they both got up. “Sure thing, kid.”

“Psh. Kid.”

By the time Dick got back with a full mug, Bruce had fired up the entertainment system and was frowning at the back of the DVD case.

Dick set a second mug for Bruce on the coffee table. “Something wrong?”

“How much do you remember about the plot of this movie?” Bruce asked him.

“All of it,” Dick replied. “I mean, we did watch it every... oh. You're worried about the suicide thing.” He settled himself back on the couch.

“Today might not be a good day for it, is all I'm worried about.”

“I'll be fine,” Dick assured him. “The whole plot's about George learning his life's worth living. And I haven't been suicidal for a while now anyway.”

Bruce gazed down heavily at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Put it on already. Your drink's getting cold.”

* * *

Dick heard voices and soft, affectionate laughter. He burrowed into Bruce's chest, resisting the urge to open his eyes. Bruce's chest rumbled with a laugh and a large hand stroked Dick's hair.

“I'm surprised you made it through the movie, champ.”

Dick grumbled into the man's shirt. Someone else laughed nearby, someone younger.

“Maybe I should come back later,” said Wally.

Dick reached blindly in the direction of Wally's voice.

“You better get over here,” said Bruce. “He gets cranky when he's half-asleep.” Dick pinched him. “That's not helping your case, Dick.”

The couch dipped on Dick's other side. “Cool it, babe. I'm here.”

Bruce tipped Dick into him. “Enjoy your new pillow, Dick.”

Dick wrapped his arms around Wally's neck. With a snicker and a few footfalls, Bruce was out of the room.

“Traitor,” Wally muttered. “How are you, babe?”

“Shh.” Dick tried to grasp at the remnants of sleep, but it was slipping through his fingers like smoke. Fingers brushed against the nape of his neck. It tickled.

“I could carry you to bed if you like,” Wally offered.

“As if you could,” Dick replied. He yawned, stretching away from Wally, and finally opened his eyes. “I'm awake now anyway.”

“Are you coming to Mount Justice?”

“I need to talk to Batgirl,” Dick replied. “I'm not gonna train, though. No one needs to see me having a panic attack if I fall on my ass today.”

“Speaking of which, how have you been today?”

Dick shrugged. “Not too bad. Nearly fell into flashbacks earlier but I stayed grounded so it wasn't as bad as it could've been.” He had to laugh before he got sucked into a black hole of _what the fuck even was his life anymore_. “That sounds so messed up.”

“Just a little,” Wally replied.

Dick stretched his legs out in front of him; they were getting a little stiff. “Have you eaten?”

“Alfred made me the world's biggest sandwich. Like, I couldn't even get my mouth around it.” Wally fell back against the couch, sighing contentedly. “It was everything I wanted in life. And now it's gone.”

“It died for a good cause,” Dick replied. “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, sure. I picked my costume up from home before I came here.”

They changed in the batcave before taking the zeta tube to Mount Justice. Dick felt a little funny dressed as Nightwing today, like he was a child wearing an older sibling's clothes.

Most of the team had already assembled, in various states of warming up. Dick sank into a right leg split between Artemis and Miss Martian. His muscles were a little tight today, so it was worth stretching them out even if he didn't plan to train with the team.

“The fact you can do that cold makes me hate you,” Artemis said as a greeting.

“I'm warm,” Nightwing replied. “Well, half-warm. B and I went jogging earlier. Is my nose still red?”

Artemis rolled her eyes at him. “So vain.”

“Your nose is fine,” Miss Martian said.

“Thank you.” Nightwing bent backwards to grab his ankle, leaning forward again to bend his back leg for an extra stretch. He probably could've poked himself in the head with his toe if he were so inclined.

“Showoff,” Artemis muttered.

Miss Martian joined him in the splits—Nightwing could see her muscles shifting to accommodate the stretch. “I can see why flexible humans do this all the time. It's fun.”

The zeta tube came to life at that point and Batgirl stepped out.

“You warm, BG?” Nightwing called to her as she crossed the room. “We're making Artemis feel bad about herself.”

“Sounds good.” Batgirl slowly lowered herself into the splits.

“I can do it when I'm warm,” Artemis said.

“Then get warm,” Batgirl replied. “Chop chop.”

“I will kick you in the face, new girl.”

Nightwing let his foot fall and swapped his split to the other side. “Somebody's stalling.”

“Eat me.”

Nightwing grabbed his back foot to pull it into the stretch. “I would, but I'm spoken for.”

“Right.” Artemis set her legs in front and touched her toes.

“Anyone I've heard of?” asked Batgirl.

“Maybe,” Nightwing replied. “I'd tell you, but then I'd have to get Zatanna to wipe your memory.”

“Aren't you a little young to have a secret lover?”

Nightwing almost choked on his own spit. Kid Flash was pissing himself at the other end of the room.

“Well, it's not so secret anymore, Batgirl,” said Artemis.

“I'm just trying to protect the kid's innocence.”

Nightwing laughed so he didn't burst into tears. “Thanks.”

Artemis seemed to sense the danger there and quickly changed the subject. “So, Batprincess,” she said, tucking one leg in close so she could better stretch the other one, “how's Gotham treating you?”

“It's been quiet,” Batgirl replied.

Nightwing eased out of his split, giving his muscles and joints a brief break. “It'll pick up again. It always does.”

“And you're still not patrolling.”

“I'm not happy about it,” Nightwing replied, “but it's complicated. Personal stuff.” He shuffled backwards for more room and lowered himself into a centre split, though the last few inches to the floor didn't come as easily as they normally did. “Hopefully I'll be back in a few months.”

“Must be really complicated.” Batgirl matched his split.

“I would tell you, but it's all tied up in secret identity stuff,” Nightwing assured her. “I'm sure Batman tell you who we are eventually. It's not like you're wearing the costume for kicks.”

“The way he talks to me sometimes makes me wonder,” Batgirl muttered.

“He's like that with most people,” Nightwing replied. “If he starts being too nice to you, you've probably just been traumatised.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Black Canary arrived in the zeta tube and the team got up to meet her.

“Can you stick around afterwards?” Nightwing asked Batgirl. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Batgirl shrugged. “I guess?”

Nightwing kept stretching as he watched the team spar from the sidelines. Black Canary had the ranged fighters practising their hand-to-hand. Artemis wasn't having any trouble with that, since she was equally skilled in both. Miss Martian's shapeshifting abilities meant she could add and subtract muscle when necessary for a fight. Zatanna was the most disadvantaged when she didn't have time to shoot off spells, but she could still hold her own. It was endlessly satisfying to watch her give up on magic and just deck whatever bad guy was trying to take her out on a mission.

Zatanna plopped down on the ground next to Nightwing when Black Canary gave them a break. “Hey. How are you today?”

“Hanging in there,” Nightwing replied. “I've had a few not-great moments, but nothing's gotten a real hold on me yet. You're the first person to ask outside of Wally and the family.”

“M'gann didn't want to upset you,” said Zatanna, “and the others weren't sure how to handle it.”

“I figured as much.”

“M'gann was thinking we should do another movie night. Not too late, obviously, because _some_ of us have school tomorrow.”

“I'm game,” Nightwing replied.

“We'll pick something happy.”

Black Canary called the team back to train some more. Nightwing ducked into the lounge area to dig through their communal movie collection. He'd found a handful of films he wouldn't hate to watch by the time the team finished training and Batgirl sought him out.

“All right, Boy Wonder...” She flopped onto the couch. “What's this about?”

Nightwing set the DVDs aside and joined her. “I wanted to talk about patrol tonight.”

“You said you'd be back in a few months.”

“This isn't about me.” Actually... “Okay, it kind of is, but not in the way you're thinking.”

“Is it about Batman telling me not to patrol tonight?”

“Yeah. Did he tell you why?”

“I usually stop listening the instant he tells me not to do something.”

Dick snorted. “I know the feeling. But he's got a good reason this time. Remember how I died?”

“I try not to.”

“It happened today, three years ago.” Dick adjusted his gloves, just to give himself something to do. “The Joker's never done anything on the anniversary before, but this is also the first time he's known I'm alive on the day. Robin's not patrolling. I'd appreciate it if you didn't, either. Just in case.”

“I can take care of myself, Nightwing,” Barbara said, with more than just a hint of irritation.

“I know,” Nightwing said quickly. “This isn't about that. The Joker likes to use Batman's partners to get to him. I'm not patrolling, so I'm out of his reach.” Thank God. “His next-best option would be Robin, but he's out of reach, too. That leaves you. I'm not asking you to stay in because I don't think you're capable. I'm asking because I don't want him going after you if he gets out of Arkham. That would be bad for both of us.”

“Both of us?”

“I'm not exactly at the peak of mental health here, Barb.”

Batgirl watched him for a moment, making Nightwing feel like she could see right through his mask. “All right,” she finally said. “I'll stay home tonight. But _only_ tonight.”

“That's all I ask,” Nightwing said, relieved. “Thank you.”

They headed back out to the main chamber together. The rest of the team was still cooling down.

“We might be having a movie night,” Nightwing said. “Interested?”

“Maybe another time,” Batgirl replied. “I'm not making excuses so I can patrol, I promise. I've got some homework I've been neglecting. Ever since I found out my old history teacher was a... well, history homework isn't the highlight of anyone's day under normal circumstances.”

“How's the new teacher working out?” Nightwing asked.

“She's not bad.” Batgirl shrugged. “Nothing special. But I think we've had enough special for a lifetime. I should go. See you later.”

Dick and the team changed into civvies as soon as she was gone. It was a relief, honestly, to feel like himself again. Today wasn't a great day for costumes.

“Zatanna told you about movie night?” M'gann said when Dick returned to the main chamber.

“I'm up for it,” Dick replied. “I looked at our DVD collection while you guys were trying to kill each other.”

“Oh, you're so funny,” said Artemis.

“I am. Thanks for noticing.”

Wally slung his arm over Dick's shoulders. “Let's get this show on the road.”

Dick spent most of the night cuddled up to Wally on the couch with M'gann resting against him on the other side. She'd broken out the blankets twenty minutes into the first movie and Jason had whipped up some hot cocoa that was a fairly close approximation of Alfred's masterpiece.

A rare feeling of safety washed over Dick, warming him almost as much on its own. Kaldur nominated himself as the team's runner, fetching refills and food and more blankets before anyone else could even think about getting up, resting his hand on Dick's shoulder whenever he passed.

Dick fell asleep again shortly after they started the second movie and wasn't quite able to avoid slipping into a nightmare. Wally pulled him out of it, whispering soothingly in his ear while M'gann stroked his arm. Kaldur leaned against the back of the couch and carded his fingers through Dick's hair, hesitantly at first, but gaining confidence when Dick didn't brush him off. The rest of the team squeezed closer together, forming a protective barrier between Dick and everything outside the room.

“I'm okay,” Dick said quietly as his heart stopped pounding against his ribcage. “Thanks, guys.”

Wally kissed his forehead. “We've got you, babe.”

“I know.” Dick let out a long breath, taking with it the tension from his nightmare. He was glad M'gann had thought of doing this. Waking up in safe place surrounded by his friends was infinitely better than waking up in a house he could barely stand on his good days.

The team stayed with him long after they should have gone to bed for school, ignoring Dick's reminders. He stopped trying after a while, content to stay wrapped up in his blanket with his friends watching over him.


	36. Footage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Dick finalise the adoption and the retrial looms ever closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Self-harm, recollections of the sexual assault of minors.

“Do you understand everything I've explained to you?” the judge asked Dick, peering at him over the glasses perched on her nose.

“I understand,” Dick replied.

“By signing these documents, you consent to your adoption.” The judge passed him the pen and he signed where directed. “They should be processed sometime next week.” She flicked through the stack of papers. “Everything seems to be in order.” She slid the papers into her briefcase.

“Thank you for coming out here,” Bruce said on Dick's behalf.

“It was my pleasure, Mr Wayne.” The judge shook hands with Bruce and Dick. Alfred saw her to the door.

Bruce pulled Dick in for a hug, ruffling his hair.

“You know I'm still calling you Bruce, right?” Dick said against his shirt.

“I'll survive. Somehow.”

Dick patted Bruce's face. “Be strong.”

“I'll try.”

“I do hate to break up this touching exchange, sirs.”

Bruce dumped Dick onto the couch, ignoring the string of insults thrown at him as a result. “Yes, Alfred?”

“The police commissioner and district attorney are on the phone,” Alfred replied without batting an eye at the exchange. “They wish to discuss the upcoming trial in person and have offered to visit the manor.”

“That would be best,” said Bruce. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Wally would be at school for a few more hours. Dick took in a slow breath. He could do this without him. He had to.

Bruce sat next to him. “You're going to be okay.”

Dick nodded. He needed a few minutes to sort his head out. Bruce stayed beside him, a silent, calming presence. Alfred brought tea; he'd let the chamomile infuse just a touch longer than usual to hopefully concentrate the effects. Dick burnt his tongue because his hands weren't steady enough. Alfred brought him some cold water.

Dick was not remotely prepared when Commissioner Gordon and DA Van Dorn arrived, but at least the chamomile had brought his anxiety down a bit. Alfred showed the two of them into the sitting room. Bruce greeted them both with a handshake.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” said Van Dorn, settling into the couch opposite Dick's.

“I didn't want to drag this out,” Dick replied.

“We hadn't planned to talk to you today,” Van Dorn said. “We had arranged to speak with the other witnesses first, but several have pulled out.”

“And a few have gone missing,” Gordon added. “We're trying to track them down.”

That was the first Dick had heard of this. He resisted the temptation to jab Bruce hard in the ribs for not saying anything sooner.

“We can't rely on them being found in time for the trial,” said Van Dorn. “If all else fails, the judge will accept the written testimonies collected by the police as evidence, but in-person testimonies are still preferable.”

“I take it that's why you're here,” Dick said. The thought of recounting everything _again_ in front of a new room full of people made him want to vomit.

“Yes.”

“You're allowed to say no,” Bruce told him.

“I know. I'm saying yes.”

“I suspected you would,” said Van Dorn. “We'll need to arrange a time to go over your old testimony so we can avoid inconsistencies.”

“I'll get Alfred to look at the calendar,” Bruce said. “He has a better head for dates than I do.”

“The GCPD will continue searching for the other witnesses in the meantime,” Gordon added.

“One more thing,” said Van Dorn. “Now, both the prosecution and the defence have an idea of what to expect in the new trial, but be aware the defence has chosen not to share evidence. The burden of proof is on the prosecution, so it's their right, but...”

“The defence attorney recently went overseas,” said Gordon.

“Strange,” Bruce replied. “He has an upcoming case.”

“Those were my thoughts,” said Van Dorn. “The Commissioner had his people look into it. The attorney flew to a number of nations in the Middle East.”

“The Middle East?” Bruce repeated. He and Dick shared a look, with a fairly good idea what the defence attorney had been doing over there.

“There... might be a connection,” Dick admitted. It had been a while since he'd had to work with his amnesia story, but he couldn't risk witholding information that could hurt the case.

Van Dorn raised an eyebrow. “Is this something you should have told me earlier?”

“Probably,” Dick replied. “I didn't think it was relevant, since it was outside U.S. jurisdiction and it seemed unlikely the defence would want to bring up something potentially incriminating. And, if I tried, they'd probably sue me for defamation.”

“I think I know what this is about,” said Gordon. “Barbara knew Skinner was using a false identity before all this happened.”

“Yeah, she got that from me,” Dick replied. “Well, from Wally. Who got it from me. Seeing Skinner at school pulled some memories out of the amnesia.”

“What memories?” Van Dorn urged, leaning forward, hands on her knees.

All the words fled from Dick's brain. Bruce squeezed his shoulder and took over.

“Skinner has a compound in a remote area of the Middle East,” he said. “He and his people abducted a number of children, apparently one at a time, who they then sexually abused and later murdered. Dick survived, but has no recollection of his escape.”

“So you knew Skinner prior to his appearance at Gotham Academy,” said Van Dorn. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I would have preferred to have this information sooner, even if we can't use it. No matter. If the defence attempts to make a story out of this, we have time to come up with a counter-argument.”

“I was thirteen at the time,” Dick replied. “That might help.”

“That's still underage across the vast majority of the world,” said Van Dorn. “So it very well might.”

“Do you know what the attorney was doing overseas?” asked Commissioner Gordon.

“There were security cameras in the compound,” Dick replied. “One was in my room.” And it looked like the defence attorney had gone back to grab the footage, assuming he'd found a backup that Bruce hadn't destroyed. Dick had really hoped the survivors hadn't taken copies with them. He didn't want them looking at him in any way ever again. The fact they didn't even need him present to violate him again was sickening.

“If he brought the tapes into the United States, we might be able to bust them for possessing child pornography.”

“We'll have to be careful about it,” Van Dorn replied. “They may try to argue it was evidence for the defence.”

“My people can be creative when they need to be.”

“I suppose that's the next best thing to actually charging them for what they did overseas,” Bruce said.

“I'll get people on it right away,” said Gordon. “Janet, was there anything else you needed?”

“Not right now.” Van Dorn stood up, smoothing out her pencil skirt. “Call my office to arrange a time to go over Dick's testimony.”

Gordon and Van Dorn said their farewells and Alfred showed them out.

Dick closed his eyes. “Shit.”

“We won't let them use this,” Bruce assured him. “It would be foolish of them to try.”

“Speaking of foolish...” Dick gathered what composure he could find to glare up at Bruce. “When were you going to tell me some of the other kids had gone missing?”

“As late as possible,” Bruce admitted. “It hasn't been long since you almost killed Brian White.”

“Maybe I should've gone through with it,” Dick said quietly.

“Dick—”

He wasn't in the mood for Bruce's excuses. “I trusted you to protect them.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“That's not good enough.” That was directed at himself just as much as it was to Bruce. He'd failed to protect the other survivors just as surely as he'd failed the ones he couldn't save before the escape. Yet, this time, he'd had a choice. He could have taken out as many of Skinner's people as possible and watched over the children directly, but he'd let Wally talk him out of it.

Even when he had control over a situation, he still managed to fuck it up.

He retreated to his bedroom. He couldn't look at Bruce's face without wanting to punch him.

Dick turned on his music player and shoved in his earbuds, burying his face in the pillow. How many times could he fuck things up before the universe would take pity on him and let him have some kind of victory? Never, probably.

Letting the legal system take the reins had been a bad idea. Dick could have protected the children if he hadn't let Wally sway him. He'd finally found a way to take control of the situation and _chose_ to give it up, because Wally asked him to.

But maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe he could find the children who had gone missing, or least save the others from the same fate. There was no guarantee this new trial would succeed anyway.

Dick was stronger now. He could do it. He could save them.

But Bruce had to be on high alert by now. The odds of Dick getting anywhere near the cave and any weapons were incredibly slim. And as soon as Bruce found out what he was doing, he would no longer be welcome at the manor. He'd lose everything he'd rebuilt over the past year. Maybe it would be worth it in the end, if he could just save _someone_.

Anyone.

A finger prodded his shoulder. Dick paused his music and shifted his head just far enough to see the culprit.

Wally.

“Bruce told me what happened,” he said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dick didn't feel like talking.

“Jason eavesdropped and I think he punched a wall,” Wally continued when it became apparently Dick wasn't about to contribute to the conversation. “You should've been told when it happened.”

Dick found his voice. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” Wally replied, and Dick believed him. “Bruce was trying to protect you, but he went about it the wrong way. He also said he explained that pretty badly.”

“No shit.” Dick wanted to turn his music back on. The world was too harsh for him right now.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Hm?” That was not the way Dick had expected this conversation to go. Wally hadn't even mentioned the killing thing yet, even though he had to know what was going through Dick's mind.

“Getting out of Gotham might help you deal with this,” Wally elaborated. “We could hang out at my place or Mount Justice.”

Dick shook his head, curling around his music player. He didn't want to go anywhere.

“Are you sure? I know the manor's hard on you sometimes.”

“Effort,” Dick muttered, flicking through his music library.

“Want company?”

Dick shrugged.

Wally kicked off his shoes and lay down opposite him. “What are you going to do?”

And there it was. Dick shrugged again. It had been easier to say it to Bruce, since he'd been angry at him at the time, but Wally hadn't done anything wrong. This would hurt him. Dick didn't want to hurt him.

“Bruce told me what you said.” There was no accusation. Just concern.

“I could've stopped it,” Dick said quietly.

“Maybe. You can't say for sure.”

“At least I would've tried.”

“It's not your responsibility, Dick.”

“It could've been, if I hadn't let you talk me out of it.”

“You've done enough already, babe.” Wally squeezed Dick's wrists. “You don't have to destroy yourself for them.”

“I'm sure that's a huge comfort for the kids who've been dragged back into the hell they just escaped.”

“Bruce will find them,” Wally assured him. “You know he won't stop until he does.”

“Yeah, because he's done such a great job so far.” Dick pressed his earbuds in deeper and played the next song his finger touched, not much caring what it was. He just needed the noise. Wally shut up and held him.

Bruce found one of the children alive that night, but Dick couldn't bring himself to feel good about it. The others were still missing, and the few who weren't were no longer willing to testify. Dick couldn't blame them.

Bruce kept searching. At Wally's insistence, Dick tried to put it out of his mind as much as possible.

After more than a week of this, Dick resorted to begging Bruce and Alfred for homeschooling so he could distract himself during the times Wally wasn't around. He spread his books out on the coffee table of the manor's living room, pretending not to notice how often Alfred, and sometimes Bruce, would check up on him.

“Call for you, sir,” Alfred said on one of these days later in January, when Dick was working on some math problems Bruce had set. “It's the hospital.”

That could mean only one thing. Dick tried to smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace, and took the receiver from Alfred. “Hello?”

“Mr Grayson?” The voice belonged to a woman he'd spoken to before. She'd handled all his phone calls about his STI tests so far.

“Speaking.”

“I have good news,” the woman said. “Your final test came back negative. You're officially STI-free.”

“Oh.” That took a moment to sink in. “That's good. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Have a nice day, Mr Grayson.” She hung up. Dick listened to the tone for a few solid seconds before he noticed Alfred waiting to take the phone back.

“Master Dick? Are you all right?”

Dick's face broke into a tired smile. Tired, but real. “I'm fine, Alfred. It was good news.” He finally handed the receiver back.

“I'm glad to hear it, sir.”

That was one part of last year Dick could finally put behind him. Now if they could find those missing children and get a guilty verdict in the damn trial, he'd be able to start healing in earnest. It was about time.

Alfred gave him some space to call Wally, who would be on his lunch break by now.

“Hey, Walls,” Dick said. “Got a sec?”

“Sure, babe.” Wally must've moved somewhere else because the background chatter was suddenly cut in half. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything's good. The hospital called about my final STI test. It came back negative.”

“That's great news,” Wally said.

“Yeah, it's—” And there were the tears. Damn it.

“Dick?”

“I'm fine,” Dick said thickly, wiping his cheeks. “It's just, you know... it's been hanging over me for months. I'm glad it's over.”

“I'll give you a big hug when I get home,” Wally said.

“Thanks. I could use one. Go have lunch. I'll see you later.”

“You sure? I feel pretty weird about hanging up when you're crying.”

Dick rubbed his eyes on his sleeve. “It's stopping. I promise. Go feed your brain. There'll be plenty of crying you can witness later, I'm sure.”

Wally laughed briefly before stopping itself. “Okay. I'll see you right after school. Love you.”

“Love you.” Dick hung up his phone. He sent a text to Bruce telling him the news, and then tried to focus on Math again. Focusing was difficult as usual, but at least his distraction was for happier reasons today.

* * *

“The attorney hasn't declared his footage of you as evidence,” Bruce told Dick one night in the cave, pulling off his gloves.

“But you're certain he has it?” Dick asked, shutting down the cowl cam on the batcomputer.

“I searched his home,” Bruce replied. “He has it. The Commissioner is working on getting an official search authorised so the GCPD can arrest him for it.”

“And you're sure that'll work?”

“He's had it for weeks now.” Bruce unclicked his utility belt. “If he intended to use it as evidence, he would have submitted it already, even if he has no intention of sharing it with the prosecution.” Alfred appeared at his elbow to take the pieces of his costume for cleaning and maintenance. “Then we can use it ourselves in the event the attorney who will have to replace him tries to use your two-year absence to discredit you.”

“Great,” Dick muttered. Just what he wanted everyone to see.

“You can say no.”

“It's fine.” Dick clicked through the files he'd finished updating, just to have something to do that didn't involve looking at Bruce. “It's just... you know. Humiliating.”

“I'm sorry you had to relive that.” Bruce squeezed his shoulder and left to finish changing. Dick headed up to bed, where Wally had passed out several hours ago. School was swamping him in tests in the mad dash towards graduation. Dick had tried to make him stay home, but he wasn't having it. Dick couldn't exactly blame him, considering his track record of making poor decisions without Wally around to talk him out of them.

Wally stirred when Dick climbed into bed. “Mm? Babe?”

“Yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep.”

Wally flopped his arm across Dick's chest. “'Sup?”

“You're in no shape for a conversation, Walls.” Dick patted his hand. “Sleep.”

“'M awake.”

“Barely.”

Wally rolled his face onto Dick's shoulder. “Need to talk?”

Yes, but... “It can wait.”

“C'mon, talk to me.” Wally yawned into his hand. “I'm too curious for sleep now.”

Dick rolled his eyes, adjusting his pillow so he could sit up against it. “Don't blame me when you fall asleep in class tomorrow.”

Wally draped himself over Dick's back. “Psh. I'll be fine. You waited up for Bruce, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

“Any news?”

“Nothing about the kids,” Dick replied.

“But...?”

“The defence attorney never declared the video of me as evidence,” Dick said.

“But he definitely has it?”

“Yeah, Bruce searched his house.” Dick's stomach didn't like the thought of that. “Commissioner Gordon's going to find a way to get an official search so they can arrest him for possessing child pornography.”

Wally squeezed him. “At least you'll get some justice for what they did to you back then.”

“Weird to think it was close to three years ago now. The timeline's still a bit wonky, since I'm not completely sure when Ra's brought me back.” It was probably for the best. Dick had enough shitty anniversaries already.

Wally gently rested the back of his hand on Dick's forehead. “You look sick. I'll get you some water. Is tap okay?”

“Bruce replaced the pipes a few years ago. It's fine.” If he could even stomach water right now.

Wally grabbed Dick's empty glass off the nightstand and filled it up in the bathroom, pressing it into Dick's hands. “Don't make yourself sick.”

Dick snorted. “Too late.” He took a small sip, which helped a little. Now he'd just have to find a balance between how much would help him and how much would make him want to vomit instead.

Wally rubbed Dick's back. Dick pressed the cool glass against his forehead, closing his eyes.

“Bruce thinks the prosecution might use the footage in the trial,” he murmured.

“You don't sound happy about it.”

“I'm not, but if it helps, I'm not going to say no.” He took another sip. “Bruce was concerned the defence might use my two-year absence to discredit me. The video would destroy that argument.” The thought of anyone else seeing the damn video made him want to hurl right then and there. Wally grabbed the bucket that lived in the bathroom these days and set it on the floor beside the bed.

“Go to sleep,” Dick muttered, irritated by the attention Wally was heaping on him when he should've been sleeping _because it was a school night_. “I'm fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Dick set the glass on the table; his last sip sat unpleasantly in his throat. He lay down, hoping the feeling would go away. He didn't especially feel like throwing up tonight.

“You don't have to do this,” Wally whispered, rubbing Dick's stomach.

“So I've heard. _Go to sleep_.”

Wally did, eventually. Dick retreated to the bathroom to throw up as quietly as he could. For once, his prayers were answered and Wally slept through it. He was much better-rested than Dick by the time morning came.

* * *

Dick took a brief break from his self-imposed news blackout to watch a report on the search of the defence attorney's home. Bruce was probably on his way home by now, but if he'd hoped to be the one to tell Dick, Vicki Vale had beaten him to the punch. Naturally.

“The police have confirmed their search turned up incriminating evidence, but they have yet to release a statement regarding what exactly they found.” Vicki's dyed hair waved in the air. “Mr Nelson has been arrested and is on the way to the GCPD as I speak. How this will affect the upcoming child trafficking retrial remains to be seen, but this can only mean good things for Richard Grayson and the prosecution.”

“Of course she had to shove my name in it,” Dick muttered from his spot on the floor. Wally was perched on the edge of the couch, digging his fingers into Dick's tight shoulders.

Wally rubbed a particularly stubborn knot. “At least she doesn't sound like she's against you.”

“Yeah, Vicki's a pain in the ass but she's not usually malicious when things get serious.” Dick gasped as the knot released. “Christ. I think my arm's gone numb.”

Wally snorted. “Want me to test it? I've been meaning to practice my right hook.”

“Fuck off.”

“So aggressive.” Wally pushed Dick forward so he could reach further down the boy's back. “You're not so scary when I'm turning you into a noodle.”

“If you didn't think I was scary, you wouldn't need to say that.”

“Sure, babe. Sure.”

Alfred cleared his throat from the doorway. “Sirs, Master Bruce has just been called away to another emergency, but he wanted to tell you... well, you clearly know already.”

“It's the thought that counts,” Dick replied. “Thanks, Alf.”

Bruce was stuck out in the field putting out various fires all night, so Dick and Wally both went to bed before he had a chance to say anything personally.

Bruce let Dick sleep in until he woke up of his own accord in the afternoon. They had lunch together while Alfred was out running errands.

Bruce consumed copious amounts of coffee between sandwiches. “The Commissioner called this morning.”

“Oh?” Dick was picking at his salad more than anything. He had no appetite today.

“He'd like your permission to pass on the footage to his trusted investigators and the District Attorney. She's promised to keep the rest of her staff away from it.”

“I guess.” Dick chased a tomato around his plate. Puking seemed like a much better idea than eating right about now.

“You don't have to agree,” Bruce told him. “They'll understand.”

“It's fine,” Dick said for the thousandth time this year, and it was barely February. It wasn't fine. Everyone knew that. But what Bruce had said about the evidence being useful for deflecting any argument involving Dick's two-year absence was absolutely true. Dick was honestly surprised the previous attorney, who was well and truly off the case now, hadn't thought to bring it up.

“Are you sure?”

Dick wanted to throw Bruce's coffee cup across the room, but he settled for slamming down his fork. “Yes, goddammit!” He took a steadying breath and brought his voice back down. “Sorry. I'm sure.”

“I'll give them a call,” Bruce replied, finishing off his final sandwich. He didn't say a word about Dick's outburst.

Dick made his way down to the cave some time later. He curled up in the computer chair and found Bruce's copy of the footage. He stared at the file icon, not daring to open it. He knew Bruce had seen some of it, just not how much. Dick didn't need to watch it. Even now, he could recall the first night down to the smallest details.

Dick wanted to claw off his skin. His nails dug deep welts into his arms. They'd wrecked him that first night, destroyed him so utterly that he would never be the same again. And they had the fucking gall to film it and store it and probably watch it over and over again for their own disgusting reasons.

And now more people would watch it. It didn't matter their intentions, or how they'd feel about it. He just wished it had all stayed in that compound. He wished Skinner had been there the night he and Iman killed everyone. He wished he'd thought to destroy the tapes himself, that he'd been strong enough to stop it from happening to him ever again.

He wanted it to _stop_. But it was never going to stop. Who knew how many people had access to that footage? Who knew how many people kept it for their personal enjoyment? Thousands of people could have watched it and Dick would never know.

This hell was endless. Even if, by some fucking miracle, they won this new trial, the video was out there already. Bruce had destroyed the tapes in the compound, but there must have been more copies stored elsewhere. They could be anywhere.

And he'd willingly let the damn thing be distributed even further.

“Dick.” Large hands gently lifted his fingers from his bleeding arm. A handkerchief dried his cheeks, a second one pressing into the deep scratches he'd inflicted on that arm.

“Dick, it's all right. Take a deep breath.” Bruce's voice was soft but firm. Dick breathed. His heart pounded out of control. He hadn't noticed that before.

Bruce backed off as soon as Dick was calm enough to hold the handkerchief long enough for the man to fetch a first-aid kit. The antiseptic stung his cuts.

“How much did you watch?” Dick asked Bruce, watching the man clean his arm. “Of the video, I mean.”

“As little as possible,” Bruce assured him. “I ran it on fast-forward, noted time stamps and moved on.”

“Thanks.” Hearing that helped a little.

“Did you watch it?”

“Don't need to.”

Bruce looked down to dress the cuts. “I see.”

“Are the Skinner and the others getting searched?”

Bruce nodded. “Anything incriminating will be confiscated. Commissioner Gordon is handling the evidence very carefully. Van Dorn and I are vetting every officer who will have access and only a few of them will be permitted to watch anything.”

Dick still felt like throwing up. Nothing felt like enough. It was too late. Too many people had seen it already.

Bruce packed up the first-aid kit. “It still bothers you, doesn't it?”

Dick found himself nodding before he'd even decided whether or not he wanted to respond. “It's...” His throat hurt. “It's like. Every person who watches that video, what Skinner and the others did to me... it's like they're involved now. Like they're...”

Bruce set the kit aside but remained on the floor, below Dick's level. It felt deliberate.

“It's like I'm being violated all over again,” Dick finally managed.

“I can still call Van Dorn,” Bruce offered. “She likely hasn't seen the video yet. We don't have to put it in the trial.”

“No,” Dick replied, “but we should.”

Bruce's lips twisted as if he was in pain. “You've made so many sacrifices for this trial already, Dick. You don't have to put yourself through this.”

“I don't want them to win again,” Dick said quietly. His vision blurred, and a fresh handkerchief was pressed into his hand. How many of those things did Bruce _have_?

“If you're absolutely sure you want to do this, I'll talk to Janet. She'll make sure the video is only used if it has to be. I promise.”

Dick reached blindly for him, catching his fingers. He squeezed them. Bruce let him do it for as long as he needed.


	37. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the trial almost upon him, Dick is in a pitched battle with his own demons. Wally and the family help where they can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for: flashbacks, vivid recollections of the sexual assault of minors, suicidal ideation, discussion of a previous suicide attempt/self harm, vomiting.
> 
> As you can tell, this is a chapter full of sunshines and rainbows.

“Don't overthink this,” Van Dorn said at the end of Dick's meeting with her. “While you want to make sure you can remember everything, we can't risk you sounding over-rehearsed.”

Dick's brain was going to explode. He fumbled with his glass of water, which Bruce had just refilled for him.

“Smith has found a new lawyer,” Van Dorn continued, shuffling the papers on her desk. “Eugene Powell. He's defended a number of child molesters and murderers in the past, but his speciality is mob bosses. You're a threat to his clients, and he will do everything he can to discredit you or throw you off-balance. He always plays dirty. We've never made any charges stick to him, but he has a reputation for intimidating witnesses, even more so than his predecessor.”

Dick could feel a headache coming on. He downed half the glass.

“Considering the circumstances, it's understandable if you want to avoid testifying,” said Van Dorn.

Dick shook his head. “I can do it.”

“Is he still receiving therapy?” Van Dorn asked Bruce.

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep it up. And let me know if you change your mind, Dick. At any point, even halfway through the trial.”

Dick and Bruce left her office shortly afterwards. Van Dorn had been swamped with work and Dick hadn't wanted to make it more difficult for her. Being in the city was weird. Bruce rested his arm gently across Dick's shoulders, a reminder that he was as safe as he could be out here.

“Want to go home?” Bruce asked. “We can pick up some takeout on the way if you're hungry.”

Dick was happy to get a smoothie and head right home. He didn't want to push himself the first time he'd been out in the city in weeks.

Alfred arrived home with Jason shortly after they did. Bruce offered them the extra drinks they'd picked up.

“I have a meeting in an hour,” he said, climbing the stairs. “I should be back for dinner.”

“You better be,” Dick replied. “Wally'll eat your share if you're not.”

“Well, we can't have that,” Bruce said good-naturedly, turning a corner on the landing and out of sight.

“I have math homework,” Jason said.

“Want a hand?” asked Dick.

“I was about to ask.”

Jason, Dick and Wally always did their homework in that same sitting room with the massive coffee table. Dick hadn't done work from Gotham Academy in there since before he'd died, but he was more than happy to do the work Bruce and Alfred assigned him. It was meant to be a quiet place, a safe place, where the kids in this house didn't have to worry about matters of life and death. In here, they were just kids. Kids with a fuckload of homework.

Wally got held back after class, so it was just Dick and Jason for a while today. Dick had finished his work with Bruce earlier, leaving him free to help (or hinder) his little brother.

“The art teacher at my school got arrested a few days ago,” Jason said, rereading his answers on the first page of his worksheet.

“What for?”

“Touching the kids,” Jason replied matter-of-factly, though his grip on the pencil gave away the tension coiled inside him.

Dick had been taught by that teacher when he was younger than Jason. God knows how long this had been going on. There was a lot of that going around lately.

“He didn't touch me or anything,” Jason clarified.

“Good. I didn't feel like dismembering anyone today. _Ugh_.” Dick had to swallow when his smoothie made an encore appearance in his throat. “He always gave me a weird vibe. Everyone used to joke about it.”

“They still did,” Jason replied. “Well, until the cops came. I guess it's not so funny anymore. Did he...?”

“No.” Skinner had been the first.

“Good. I didn't want to commit my first murder today.”

Dick couldn't hold back a snort. Jason's statement was actually rather touching.

“It's the thought that counts, Jay. Check your working out on that last question. It looks kinda weird.”

“Damn it,” Jason muttered, dragging the eraser over his work and starting over. “Bruce told me all the schools in Gotham are on high alert because of Skinner.”

“And that's only happening _now_?”

Jason shrugged. “I guess there wasn't any evidence Skinner had touched any of his students specifically at school until...”

“Until me.” Dick breathed out the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach; he tried to avoid thinking about that day. “Happy to be of service, I guess.” At least they believed him now. It had taken a while, but it seemed Skinner was finally being proven wrong.

“You don't have to do that,” Jason murmured, bent over the problem he was re-attempting.

“Do what?”

“Make jokes. I know he messed you up. We all know. You don't have to make light of it. Unless it helps you feel better. Then joke away, I guess. But, you know, you don't have to pretend you're okay if that's what you're doing. I'm not judging.”

Dick wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. It wasn't until Jason was awkwardly patting his shoulder that he realised his body had made an executive decision to do the latter.

He sputtered out a laugh, wiping his eyes. “Oops.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Dickhead.”

“Oh, you're so clever.” The tears stopped quickly, for which Dick was grateful. He didn't feel like going through an all-out crying jag in front of Jason today. It'd only upset the kid and make Dick feel even sicker. The art of a good cry was a balancing act—too little and you're left with sore eyes and a sick feeling in your guts without any relief, and too much gave you the eyes and the sickness plus a headache and exhaustion. Dick hadn't found that balance yet, so he preferred to cry when it was easy to drop off to sleep afterwards. Not that it always worked out that way.

Dick sluiced those thoughts from his mind, draping himself over Jason's shoulder and badgering him while he finished the second half of his worksheet. They didn't talk about the crying thing.

“You misread that question,” Dick said, poking the sheet. “Or you just suck at math.”

“Asshole,” Jason muttered, reaching for his eraser again.

“Good thing you're doing this in pencil.”

“Shut up.”

“Did you know some pens have erasable ink?”

“Seems kinda pointless.”

“I guess it doesn't look erasable, though. So you look like a mature adult who trusts himself with a pen, but secretly you're still terrified of making mistakes and wondering who the hell let you use a pen in the first place. Did you know some schools give their students pen licences? Before that, they're only allowed to write in pencil. I think it's pretty common in Australia. Not sure about anywhere else.”

“Uh-huh.” Jason moved on to another question. “I'll be sure to remember that useless piece of information if I ever find myself in the land of venomous everything.”

“Great beaches, though.”

“With jellyfish that can kill you.”

“Imagine if creationism was real. What would you have to be thinking to invent an _evil bag_?”

Jason snickered over his homework. This was the easiest conversation they'd had with each other in a long time. Dick couldn't help but feel hopeful that maybe things would turn out okay between them in the end.

* * *

Wally traced patterns over Dick's stomach as they lay in bed that night. Dick had just finished telling him about the day.

“So even Van Dorn is trying to give you an out,” Wally said quietly, his eyes following his finger in a figure-eight around Dick's shirt-covered belly button.

“There's a lot of that going around,” Dick muttered. “Dinah gave me the whole _no one_ _will judge you if you change your mind_ talk in my last session with her.”

“Well, she's not wrong.”

Dick sighed. “I know. It's just... I swear that's all anyone ever talks about.”

“We're just worried about you.”

“I'm aware.”

“We know you,” Wally said quietly. “You're still dealing with how much of it was out of your control and how much you think was your responsibility. It's always been like that, to an extent, even before any of this happened.”

“It's not unusual in the superhero business.”

“Doesn't mean it's healthy.” Wally kissed Dick's nose. “I know you're still mad at yourself about what happened to the other kids between the trials. And, look, wanting to testify so no one else has to go through what you went through is really noble, but there are a lot of reasons why some victims don't go through with it. I think we're all just worried you're forcing yourself to do this, even if it may not exactly be the best thing for you right now.”

“The world doesn't stop just because I feel like shit, Wally.” Dick rolled over, facing away. He hated this conversation and every single variation the people around him had shoved down his throat of late. “I'm done talking, and you've got school tomorrow.”

Wally cuddled up behind him. “Sorry.”

Dick didn't respond. These kinds of exchanges were becoming increasingly common as the retrial drew nearer. Frankly, he was sick of it. Everyone around him had made it perfectly clear how he could always pull out of testifying without judgement, but the repetition was starting to wear on him.

Sleeping was always harder on nights like this, when he just couldn't stop thinking, leaving him groggy and irritable come morning. He plied himself with coffee at breakfast, having ignored Wally's insistence that he go back to sleep. Dick almost laughed, since it was a bit hard to go _back_ to sleep when he'd never been asleep in the first place.

Wally wolfed down his breakfast, planted a kiss on Dick's cheek and zipped out to take the zeta back to Central City. Alfred and Jason left for the school run shortly afterwards, leaving Dick and Bruce at the breakfast table.

Dick wasn't really eating. His stomach was already full of coffee and frustration. Pushing an egg around his plate made him feel like he was doing something, at least.

Not knowing what else to do, Dick refilled his coffee cup for the fifth time. “Are you going to work later?”

“Lucius can handle it.”

“Lucius has been handling it a lot lately.”

“He offered,” Bruce admitted. “That's your last cup for the day.” Bruce poured the rest of the coffee into his own cup.

Dick downed half his drink in one go, keeping eye contact with Bruce the whole time. “I didn't realise you were in the habit of accepting every offer people made to you.”

Bruce sighed and set his cup aside. “I wanted to spend more time with you.”

Dick was too tired to respond sensitively, so he rolled his eyes. “I'm not going anywhere. We've got assholes to put behind bars.”

“Yes. About that...”

Dick slammed his cup on the table. “Bruce, if you say anything along the lines of _no one_ _will judge you if you can't testify_ , I will hit you, I swear to God.”

Bruce held up his hands. “Message received.”

“Finally.” Dick shoved his plate aside and collapsed face-first onto the table. “You have no idea how many people have said that shit to me. I get it, okay? You can all shut up now.”

“All right. Want to help me install a new stun gun on the batmobile?”

“Let's do it.”

Bruce nearly set himself on fire three times over the next few hours. Dick changed into his Nightwing costume to take advantage of its flame retardant and rubber-insulated materials. He may have gotten a little bit electrocuted before the idea occurred to him.

Finally, though, not long before Jason would be due home from school, they got the damn thing working. They also may have used marshmallows to test that the upgrade worked on all angles around the car.

“Do I even want to know what happened?” Jason asked, drawing level with Dick, who passed him a roasted marshmallow on a metal skewer Bruce had assured him wouldn't be dangerous to stick near his mouth.

“Testing the new stun gun,” Dick replied. “Well, it's more like a stun _car_ , since the current runs along the outside of the car so anyone who touches it gets a shock. We're working on the actual stun gun component.”

Jason bit into the marshmallow, the thing stretching like taffy between his teeth.

Dick was covered in soot and sweat and needed to soak in the world's longest bath, but he was also about as happy as someone covered in crap could be. Alfred would be pissed when he came down here, but it was worth it. Mostly. He'd probably have to clean his costume himself as punishment. At least it'd give him something to do once the fun was over.

Bruce slid into the driver's seat and pressed a button. Two wires shot out from the front of the batmobile and embedded themselves into a ballistics gel dummy several feet away. Current crackled through the wires and into the dummy, blackening it at the point of entry.

“That one looked good,” Dick said. “Got the retraction working properly yet?”

Bruce pressed another button and the wires jerked themselves out of the dummy, taking a chunk of charred gel with them. “Apparently not.”

“It's not releasing properly,” Dick said. “Maybe we should use clamps instead.”

“I have a set ready to install.”

“Alfred's making sandwiches,” Jason said.

“Go wash up,” Bruce replied. “I'll be along in a minute.”

Dick peeled off his costume in the changerooms. He still wasn't up to showering—no matter how well he was doing on any given day, just the sound of the shower was enough to put him on edge—so he ran a washcloth under a tap and freshened up a little before changing into civvies and heading upstairs. He'd run himself a proper bath later.

Wally had shown up and received a pile of sandwiches by the time Dick reached the dining room. Jason had disappeared already, probably eating in his room far away from his weird family.

“Jason said you and Bruce turned the batmobile into a giant Taser,” Wally said, pulling a chair out.

Dick sat down. “We did, yeah. Still working out the kinks.”

“And cooking marshmallows, apparently.”

Dick shrugged. “It worked.”

“I know. Jason stole one for me.”

“Your friendship scares me.”

Wally shoved a sandwich into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “That's what we're here for.”

Dick took a sandwich from Wally's plate. “We should try toasting sandwiches on the car next.”

“Babe.” Wally kissed his cheek. “You read my mind.”

“It wasn't hard.”

Wally took a bite out of the sandwich Dick stole in response. Dick was too tired to put up a fight, considering he didn't really want it all that much.

“Go on, eat it,” Wally said. He used to shove food in Dick's face when they were kids, but he didn't do that anymore. It wasn't hard to figure out why.

Dick grudgingly took a few bites. The sandwich had a bit more ham than he preferred, since it had been made for Wally's tastebuds.

“Did you get back to sleep after I left this morning?”

Dick shook his head.

“Early night, then, I guess.” Wally devoured another sandwich.

“Everything okay at school?” Dick asked him, remembering the reason why he'd been later than usual yesterday. Wally had deflected when Dick had asked him about it last night, evidently more interested in Dick's day than his own.

Wally shrugged. “Eh, nothing major. Apparently my dad wanted access to my academic records. The principal just wanted to talk to me about it, since I had permission revoked from my parents as soon as I turned eighteen. Forgot to tell you about that. Sorry.”

“It's fine,” Dick replied. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Wally tore the crust off another sandwich. “Word's started to get around about Dad kicking me out. It's just been through the school so far, but the media'll pick up on it sooner or later. Not sure how they'll play it.”

“That'll depend on how the public feels about me,” Dick replied, pulling a slice of ham out of his sandwich to shove in Wally's mouth. “And us as a couple. But that'll depend a lot on me anyway.”

“It varies.” Wally pinched a second slice of ham from Dick's sandwich. “I keep my eye on it a bit more than you do, since, you know, it's not as hard on me. Most people are happy for us, but there's always a few who think one of us is a bad influence on the other. They're pretty evenly split on whether it's me or you.”

“I'm sure the people who think I'm making shit up are more likely to lean towards me being the bad influence,” Dick said as matter-of-factly as he could. He passed the remainder of his sandwich over to Wally. “If they think I'm telling the truth about Skinner, they're probably more likely to blame you for our relationship.”

“That makes more sense.” Wally sighed, resting his forehead against his hand. “I mean, I am the adult here. Which... Christ.”

“Wally, you're not influencing me.”

Wally dropped the half-eaten sandwich onto the plate. “Dick, you're still legally a kid.”

“You've never pressured me into anything,” Dick insisted. “Honestly, you're more likely to dig in your heels than I am at this point. You've always been respectful of our age difference.”

“It never feels like enough,” Wally admitted. “I just... I don't want...”

“You're nothing like them,” Dick said shortly. This line of conversation was starting to dig up memories he didn't want to think about. “You'll never be like them. You're a good person and you've done everything in your power to make me feel safe.”

Wally chuckled bitterly. “Sorry. Didn't mean to dump that on you.”

“Shut it,” Dick said, not unkindly, and rested his head on Wally's shoulder. “I'm glad you told me. The fact you're worrying about this it all is a good sign.”

“If you say so.”

Dick pinched his arm. “I do say so.”

* * *

Sleeping became close to impossible as the trial drew nearer and Dick's nightmares more frequent. He floated like a ghost through the house, too tired to focus on much of anything. He constantly forgot to eat or bathe until someone reminded him, and sometimes bathing was simply too difficult a task even when he did remember.

In light of this, Bruce and Alfred had stopped assigning him homework and Alfred made every effort to stock the kitchen with small, nutritious snacks that were easier on Dick's stomach than full meals.

Dick started to avoid the manor and hide out in the batcave most days. He slept a little better in his nook of a bedroom down there, even if he was still a wreck come morning. Most of the hobbies he could have used to distract himself were out of his reach, requiring too much of his focus, but he could still shut out the dark thoughts with music.

Wally held him whenever he could. At any other time, Dick might've shared an earbud with him, but he needed to let the sounds wash over him, wrap around him like a blanket. Wally sometimes helped him deal with his hygiene in small, non-invasive ways—trimming his fingernails, washing his hair and face—while Dick lay back and listened to whatever playlist he'd been in the mood for on that particular day.

Today was an 80's hair bands playlist as Wally massaged shampoo into Dick's scalp over a basin Bruce had installed in the nook only a week ago, brushing off Dick's protests that it was too difficult to bother doing. Bruce and Jason had the same playlist; Dick had uploaded all of his to the batcomputer one night he was bored a few months ago. Alfred hated rock music and passive-aggressively added a few playlists he deemed more tasteful. Dick sometimes delved into the classical music on days he found singing too jarring.

Wally squeezed more shampoo into his hands and rubbed it through Dick's hair. He was the only person who could touch Dick like this without losing a finger, especially on a day like this when Dick had to stop himself from punching anyone who looked at him wrong.

Dick shut off the Bon Jovi when Wally tapped his shoulder, indicating he was about to run the water. They'd accidentally ruined a pair of earbuds rinsing his hair once. Since then, he always took them out before that point.

Wally turned on the tap, cupping handfuls of water into Dick's hair. “Sorry the water's cold.”

“I'll live,” Dick replied, shoving his music player in his pocket. He closed his eyes as the cool water filtered through his hair, followed by Wally's fingers.

“How are you feeling today?” Wally asked, tipping more water into Dick's hair.

“I can focus better than usual,” Dick replied, “but the thought of going up to the manor still makes me want to set myself on fire.”

“Let's not do that, then,” Wally said. The next surge of water had a little more warmth. “I brought a new book. Wanna take turns reading aloud?”

“Sure.” Dick found reading aloud easier than reading to himself, so he and Wally had started working their way through some novels together. They'd only just finished the first one, owing to the slower reading speed for speaking and the flightiness of Dick's concentration.

Wally rubbed a towel over Dick's hair until it stopped dripping. Dick lay on the mattress while his boyfriend hunted through the backpack he'd brought for his book. They'd gone for the classics, something completely alien to the here and now. Like the space documentary Dick had watched at Wally's place weeks ago, the detachment from his present situation helped him feel more at ease. They'd watched at least fifty documentaries since then, a mix of historical, travel, space and nature. Jason, apparently, watched a lot of animal documentaries and had plenty of suggestions.

Wally joined Dick on the bed. “Wanna start?”

“You go.” Dick curled up at Wally's side, face pressed against his shirt and listened to the words come to life. He didn't feel much like reading today, so he let Wally read the next chapter and the next, closing his eyes as Wally stroked his clean hair.

Eventually, Wally set the book aside and they lay together, half-dozing, until Alfred brought snacks. Dick choked down a few crackers and let Wally have the rest. Those few crackers sat like concrete in his stomach and he had to fight down the urge to vomit. Wally coaxed a glass of water down his throat and lay him down a while longer, rubbing away the discomfort in his stomach.

“Have you been keeping up with the image rehearsal therapy?” Wally asked him after the nausea had subsided.

Dick shook his head. He couldn't bear to think about his dreams, those razor-sharp memories, long enough to alter them.

“Babe.”

“I can't.”

“It won't get better if—”

“I tried!” Dick snapped. He _had_. But every time he reached into that dark place, it nearly pulled him under. It was only through sheer force of will that he'd dragged himself out of it before he fell all the way. He didn't have much will left.

Wally softened. “Sorry. I shouldn't have...”

Dick buried his face in the pillow, facing away from Wally, before his eyes betrayed him. And his lungs. He was too weak to keep it together anymore.

Wally clung to him, whispering reassurances and apologies. Dick could barely hear him over his own memories. Wally's tone of voice changed somewhere down the line, more urgent, when Dick could no longer pick out his exact words.

Skinner's voice was much clearer, his hot breath ghosting over Dick's ear, making him want to tear it from his head. _That's right. Good boy._ Skinner pressing against him in his own bed in the manor, Dick unable to make a noise for fear of losing Jason...

Dick vomited then, over the edge of the mattress, into a bucket that hadn't been there before. Wally wiped a napkin over Dick's mouth.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He helped Dick hold a glass of water and drink. “I shouldn't have said anything. _Shit_.”

Dick felt too sick to reassure him. Wally remained restless throughout the rest of the day, saying little but always hovering close by. Dick had to pester him into doing homework. There was always so much of it, and Wally had been neglecting it lately in favour of looking after Dick in his condition.

“This can wait,” Wally said once he'd finally opened his books.

“You're not failing because of me,” Dick replied, resting his chin on Wally's shoulder. “Shut up and do it already.”

“Go take a nap and maybe I'll consider it.”

Dick punched his shoulder with a fair amount of force, enough to give Wally a dead arm for a few seconds, and threw himself onto his pillow. The odds of him actually getting to sleep were terrible, but he could use a rest. Assuming he didn't have another nightmare.

“I'll wake you as soon as I see anything wrong,” Wally assured him, shaking out his arm. “Asshole.”

“I'll hit harder next time.”

Wally petted his hair. “You're always cranky when you're tired.”

“Bite me.”

“Later.”

Dick threw him an obscene gesture before settling under the covers properly and closing his eyes. He was still quite drained from earlier, but at least Wally had stopped apologising every two seconds. Other people had set him off far worse before, and maybe Wally would shut up about the damn therapy now. He shoved away a twinge of guilt over discarding the technique Dinah had taught him. He'd start it again when he felt up to thinking about it, which was not today.

He dozed more than anything, every so often becoming dimly aware of the sounds coming from Wally's direction, the scratching of the pen, the shuffling of paper, the occasional curse word.

Dick felt better when he emerged from his rest, though that wasn't saying much.

* * *

“I don't think you should testify,” Wally said the night before the trial, watching Dick pace up and down the bedroom in the manor from his seat on the bed. Dick had expended all his mental energy dealing with the bath earlier and couldn't bring himself to make the trek down to the cave.

“It's not up to you,” Dick shot back, more than a little frustrated that Wally thought now was a good time to bring this up.

“The trial hasn't even started and you're already a mess.”

“Gee, I hadn't noticed.” Dick rubbed his bare foot over a spot of discolouration on the carpet Alfred hadn't been able to rectify yet. “Shame all the other victims are dead, missing or unwilling to come forward, hey?” Three children had been found dead over the past few days. Dick hadn't eaten or slept much since Bruce gave him the news.

“Van Dorn thinks there's enough evidence without your testimony.”

“Witness testimonies help remind the jury they're dealing with real people who have been hurt by the actions of these assholes.” Dick wasn't going to the trial until it was his day to testify, so he had a few extra days to worry himself sick. He was already pretty sick. Food did not stay in him for long.

“You're torturing yourself, babe.”

“Don't _babe_ me. I'm not in the mood tonight. Everyone's giving me this shit. Bruce only backed off for a few days before it started creeping back in to his vocabulary. You should know better.”

“You're scaring me,” Wally said bluntly. “The way you've been this past week... the last time it was this bad, you tried to kill yourself.”

“I'm not going to kill myself while we've got a trial to win.” If this trial failed, there would be some reconsidering, but for now he planned to stick around. No matter what, he was staying until there was justice. He didn't much care what form it took anymore. As much as he didn't want to abandon everyone he loved, if that's what it took to make sure Skinner and his people never hurt anyone again, he would do it. His own needs had ceased to matter.

“The way you're talking about it concerns me even more,” Wally said.

“I'll deal.”

“But you're _not_ dealing.”

“I haven't taken a knife to my wrists again,” Dick retorted, “so I think I'm doing pretty okay considering the circumstances. I'd like to see you do better.”

“Dick, you're not sleeping.” Wally stepped into his path, forcing him to stop pacing.

“It's happened before.”

“Or eating.”

“Ditto.”

Wally grabbed his shoulders. “You're not well.”

“I'm well enough.”

“You're not. You're really not.”

Dick smacked his arms away. “Get out.”

“Dick...”

“Get. Out.” Dick retreated to the bathroom, even though the tiles made him want to vomit, until Wally left. Then he collapsed on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Not a single person thought he was capable of doing this. They all thought he would crumble on the witness stand, as if he hadn't testified before and pulled through despite wanting to curl up and die at least five times a day.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Where had all their faith gone? When had they stopped believing in him? What had he done? Was it the suicide attempt? Had they stopped believing he was strong enough in that moment when the world was dark and futureless and all he'd wanted to do was escape an inescapable hell?

When the retrial had been confirmed, Dick had fought so hard to stay optimistic. To stay strong. He'd thought the people who loved him had his back, believed in his strength. They wouldn't have bothered holding him together through all of this if they'd believe he'd crumble anyway, right? Surely they would've put their collective feet down sooner than this.

Maybe they were right. He couldn't do this. Not without someone in his corner who believed he could. And he'd wanted so badly for that to be Wally. Bruce. _Anyone_. He didn't care anymore who it was. Just _someone_.

If he couldn't do this, what good was he? Why had he been spared when people stronger than him had perished? If he'd been stronger, he would've been out on the streets with Bruce every night protecting the other children, not hiding away like a scared child himself.

How long had Wally known he wasn't strong enough? Had he even believed in him during the first trial? Had it been a mistake letting him see all the ugly things Dick went through on a daily basis? Maybe he shouldn't have shown that to anyone. Maybe it was supposed to be private. But the pain threatened to burst out of him if he didn't show it to someone, if he couldn't find a way to share the burden, take just a little bit of that horrible, constricting weight off his chest.

Dick didn't remember reaching for his phone, but he's already typed out a text and hovered his finger over the send button.

“ _I'm sorry_ ,” he sent.

“ _What about?_ ” Wally replied in a matter of seconds. “ _Kicking me out? I get it. I pushed some buttons I shouldn't have pushed. I should be the one apologising._ ”

Damn speedster. Dick typed out another message. This was easier than talking to him face-to-face.

“ _That's not it_ ,” he replied.

“ _?_ ”

Dick drummed his fingers against the side of his phone. He didn't know how to say what he wanted to say.

Another message from Wally: “ _You okay?_ ”

“ _What made you lose faith in me?_ ” Dick's insides lurched as he sent that text. Did he really want to know the answer?

“ _What made you think I lost faith in you?_ ”

Dick wiped his face dry. He needn't have bothered; it was already wet again. He couldn't... how could he write it out? How could Wally not know what he meant? Did he honestly not know, or was he just trying to spare his feelings?

“ _Talk to me, Dick,_ ” Wally sent. “ _You're freaking me out._ ”

Dick threw his phone across the room, not even bothering to hold back a scream. At least it muffled the thump of the phone against the wall.

Within seconds, knocking erupted against the door. “Dick? Are you okay in there?” Wally had rushed from his room to check on him.

Dick didn't want to talk anymore. He lay there, emotionally spent, too weak to do anything about the tears soaking his face.

“Say something,” Wally insisted. “Please. I fucked up. I'm sorry. You don't have to let me in. Just let me know you're okay. _Please_.”

It took all of Dick's strength to get up and walk those few steps to the door. Somehow, it was easier than talking loud enough to be heard through the wood. He turned the handle and let the door slide open under its own power.

Wally's mouth twisted, eyes shining, and Dick couldn't deal with that. “I'm sorry,” Wally whispered. Wally's emotions were too close, too raw, and all Dick wanted was to make it stop. All of it. Despite himself, he stepped back to let him in. Wally hesitated, watching his face, before stepping through the doorway.

Dick sat down, almost missing the bed entirely. Wally remained by the open door.

“ _I_ made you think I stopped believing in you,” he said quietly. “I knew you were hearing the _you don't have to testify_ talk from everyone, but I didn't stop to think how that might be affecting you. How hearing it that much might make you think we didn't believe in you anymore. I'm sorry. I should've realised that sooner.”

Dick found himself staring at his hands, clasped as they were in his lap. Wally's face was too much.

“I believe in you,” Wally said firmly. “I do. I know I've told you that before, but obviously you needed to keep hearing it. You're strong. You can push through anything. It's just... you've been through so much. I didn't want you to suffer any more than you had to. I know you can do it—I know you have it in you to testify again—but...” Wally swallowed audibly. “It's just... you shouldn't have to put yourself through this. You've done so much already and I know you'll keep doing everything you can, even if it hurts you.” A shuddering breath. “I just... sometimes I hate how selfless you are.”

A laugh escaped Dick's throat, wet and bitter.

“You are,” Wally said. “You really are. The shit you've put yourself through for the other kids... Jesus.”

“I haven't done anything for Jesus lately,” Dick murmured. Talking hurt.

“Well, you just about qualify for sainthood, so that's something.”

Dick snorted. “Bullshit.”

That moment of humour quickly dissolved, leaving the two boys breathing into the silence, avoiding eye contact. After a moment's consideration, Dick patted the spot on the bed beside him. After a moment of his own, Wally sat down.

“I believe in you,” Wally repeated, fitting his hand in Dick's. “But I love you, too. And that part of me wants you to stay home and heal, not put yourself through hell all over again.”

“I want to heal,” Dick said quietly, resting his head on Wally's shoulder. “I need to do this first. If my testimony can help in any way, I'll feel better when it's all over.” He tried not to think about what would happen if this trial failed, too.

“Okay,” Wally agreed.

“I think I broke my phone.”

“We'll deal with it later.” Wally squeezed Dick's hand. “Get some sleep. We're in for a rough few weeks.”

Dick's eyes hurt from crying. It was a relief to close them. Wally stroked his spine, whispering apologies and endearments, refusing to let himself sleep until Dick dropped off first.


	38. Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Wally have made up, but more trouble's on the horizon. Namely, the retrial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll get to the warnings and stuff in a sec, but there's something I need to talk about first. There's no real way I can say it with without sounding like a douchebag, but here goes.
> 
> I don't appreciate being prodded for updates. I'm more forgiving when (polite) questions about it are attached to an actual comment about the story because it shows the reader actually read the thing and wants to show some appreciation, but when it's just a comment saying "more" or "when are you updating", I feel like the person writing that has forgotten I'm a person rather than a machine. Please stop it. I'm writing an enormous story for free in between all my other commitments, which take a lot out of me due to their physical nature. This is not my job. I am under no obligation to do this. I do it out of love for writing, for the fandom, for the show, and for my boys. It should never be a chore. Please don't make it feel like one.
> 
> In short: I will update when I'm ready to update. Bothering me does not make me write faster.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** discussion of the sexual assault of minors, vomiting, talk of suicide, PTSD/anxiety. Really the PTSD/anxiety warning is a blanket warning at this point.
> 
> You are all going to hate me for this chapter.

Bruce took Jason to school the next morning before heading to the trial Dick wasn't up to attending before his testimony date. He and Alfred played chess for a few hours, until Dick tired of losing, and cleaned the kitchen together. The repetition of the movements kept Dick focused on the here and now.

Kitchen clean, Alfred dragged an old recipe book from the shelf. “Would you care to help me bake an afternoon treat, Master Dick?”

“Sure.”

They flicked through the book together. Dick doubted he'd eat much, but he could deal with cooking well enough. Wally was obsessed with Alfred's cookies, so he picked those. Maybe Dick could eat half of one, because _Alfred's cookies_.

Dick lingered in the kitchen after the first set went into the oven. The scent of cooking sugar and butter and chocolate felt like home. Nothing bad happened when there were cookies in the oven. Alfred seemed to sense his mood and set to making his famous hot chocolate. They drank together, sitting at the counter, while the cookies continued to bake.

“We might need to make another batch,” Dick said, watching the timer on the oven twitch. “We've barely made enough to qualify as a speedster's appetiser.”

“I have two more bowls of dough already sitting in the refrigerator, sir,” Alfred replied, topping up Dick's cup.

“You really do think of everything.”

“Years of practice, Master Dick.”

The hot chocolate didn't sit quite comfortably in Dick's stomach, but there wasn't danger there yet. He chased it down with a few orange slices, which helped a little.

Alfred had barely transferred the first batch of cookies onto the cooling rack before Bruce, Jason and Wally all piled into the kitchen at once.

“Just when we'd achieved some piece and quiet,” Dick said as he poked Wally, who'd made a beeline for the cookies.

“Peace and quiet's overrated,” Wally replied, stopping short of the rack as Alfred shooed him off. “Aww.”

“Let them cool, Master Wally.”

“Yeah, Master Wally,” Dick said.

Bruce chuckled, ruffling Dick's hair. “How was your day?”

“I still suck at chess.”

“To be fair, I can't beat Alfred, either,” said Bruce.

“I taught you all you know, sir, but not everything I know.” Alfred gave up trying to keep Wally away from the cookies, heading to the sink to get started on the dishes.

Wally shoved a cookie in his mouth, still soft enough to fold into the space without a whole lot of force. He set another one on a plate for Dick, who would have to take his time eating.

“Not much happened today,” Bruce said, tearing little pieces off his own to eat one at a time. “Powell's sticking to his predecessor's playbook so far.”

Dick nodded mutely. He couldn't talk and at the same time with this particular topic. Bruce headed down to the batcave shortly thereafter for whatever work he needed to do for tonight. Jason started his homework on the dining room table. Dick and Wally were more of a hindrance than a help, and Jason eventually started throwing pens at them until they went away.

They headed down to Dick's nook in the batcave with a full plate of cookies. One had been enough for Dick. Wally munched on the rest while he tried to complete his chemistry homework. Dick finished off the orange he'd started eating earlier.

“Were you okay today?” Wally asked him, punching some numbers into his calculator.

“As okay as I could be,” Dick replied, lifting a slice of fruit to Wally's lips.

Wally pulled it from Dick's fingers with his teeth, chewing and swallowing before he responded. “You seem pretty chill.”

“Compared to last night, sure. I'm freaking out on the inside, I promise.” There were only a few slices of orange left, but Dick had already lost what little appetite he'd managed to scrounge up today. He shoved the bowl in Wally's direction.

“Is your phone working?”

“It's slow, but it still turns on. Haven't told Bruce I threw it yet.”

“I can do that if you like.”

Dick shrugged. “I don't see how it'll make a difference, but go ahead.”

“He won't be mad. It's kind of my fault anyway.”

“If you say so.”

Wally snapped his textbook shut. “ _Babe_.”

“Don't do that.”

“Hey, I've taken full responsibility for pushing your buttons last night.”

“It takes two to tango, Walls.” Dick wasn't a fan of Wally cutting him too much slack. It felt like a cop-out, like Wally was using Dick's mental illness to excuse bad behaviour.

Wally threw down his pen and joined Dick on the mattress. “Sorry. I know you hate it. It's just... you can be really hard on yourself sometimes. I get it. We all do it. Comes with being in the hero biz, I guess.” He offered Dick his hand. Dick took it. “How about letting me take the responsibility this time? Or, I don't know... some of it?”

Dick snorted. “You're ridiculous.”

“I live to serve.” Wally ate the last of the orange slices. He'd already finished the cookies by now.

Dick kissed him, both their lips still sweet with orange. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Everything.”

“That's pretty broad, babe.”

“It's pretty accurate.” Dick didn't know how else to word it. Wally had been here for him through _a lot_ , even at times when he honestly didn't deserve that level of devotion. Dick knew he was a difficult person to deal with at times. Most of the time, really. But Wally had stuck with him. Anyone else would've jumped ship by now, surely.

“Okay.” Wally kissed Dick's nose, leaving a touch of stickiness behind. “You're welcome. For everything.”

Dick wiped the juice off his face. The moment was too serious for laughter, but he managed a smile. And it didn't even make him feel tired.

Neither of them felt like making out, so they lay down together instead. Wally grabbed his homework after a while, lying on his stomach while Dick curled up beside him. It was comfortable. There was no real need to do anything. Being in Wally's presence was enough to keep Dick's head clear, at least for the moment. The soft sounds of the pen scratching, papers shuffling, even Wally swearing under his breath, were far more comforting than they had any right to be.

Wally rested his face in his notebook when he was finished, grumbling under his breath. Dick patted his head. Wally's backpack lay at the end of the bed, but neither of them made any move to collect the next piece of school-based torture.

“Oh, FYI,” Wally said after a while, “for the trial, the defence wants to question me on the stand.”

If it was the defence asking for it, that couldn't mean anything good. “Do you know why?”

Wally shrugged. “Probably to discredit you for liking dudes again. Van Dorn said I could do it and she could think of some questions to ask me herself so my appearance is on the prosecution's terms.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“I wanted to ask you first.”

Dick had no idea what the right answer was in this situation. “I don't know, Wally. I really don't.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Wally lifted his head from his book, packing everything away. “It might be better to just do it. It's easier for the defence to control how they use me if I can't say anything back.”

That was a good point. Just because someone went on the stand didn't mean they had to play into the hands of whoever was questioning them. If done right, Wally could make Powell seriously regret putting him on the stand.

“All right,” Dick said. “Do it.”

“You sure?”

“You made a good argument.”

Wally half-laughed, but it died almost as soon as it left his mouth. “I wasn't trying to persuade you.”

“I know, but it worked anyway.” Dick was trying incredibly hard to keep this conversation light. He was stressed enough already.

“Okay, I'll get Bruce to call Van Dorn.” Wally rolled off the mattress and shoved his books into his bag, trading them for his phone. Dick lay on his back, stretching while he listened to the conversation. There wasn't much to hear. Wally relayed the information and hung up, returning to the head of the bed with his next set of homework. Math. Dick read the questions over Wally's shoulder, trying to work out the answers in his head. He could get a few, which was better than some days, but overall his focus was still awful for his old standards.

“The team's training tonight, aren't they?” Dick asked after a while.

Wally nodded, tapping his pencil against the paper thoughtfully.

“Planning to go?”

Wally shrugged. “Maybe. Is your therapy still on after that?”

“Yeah. Dinah's trying her damnedest to keep me from falling apart before the trial. Brave of her.” Dick didn't feel like he was accomplishing much in their sessions. Half the time they ended up not talking about the trial at all, since some days Dick could barely think about it without feeling ill.

“Feeling up to watching us train?”

“I don't know.”

“That's okay. I'm not sure I want to go anyway. Arty's kicking my ass because I keep getting distracted.”

“By?”

“Life.”

“Namely mine.”

“A little bit, yeah,” Wally admitted. “Not your fault,” he added quickly.

There was no point dwelling on that. “Maybe I will go, just to watch Arty wipe the floor with you.”

“Maybe I'll be extra-distracted today, just for you.” Wally shoved his books aside. “Ugh. I'll do this later. We'll need to leave soon.”

“All right.” Dick climbed off the bed, finding his shoes and sunglasses. The Nightwing costume wasn't going to happen today, not in this mood. “You mind telling the others I'm not feeling chatty today?”

“I'll take care of it.” Wally packed up his books and headed into the cave to change into costume.

Dick took his time lacing up his sneakers. He missed the team, but people were hard to deal with right now. They'd understand. Maybe he'd hang around after therapy, depending on how he was feeling, and watch a quiet movie or two.

Wally returned in a matter of minutes and they headed for the zeta tube. The rest of the team was already there, minus Batgirl. That was a relief. Dick didn't feel like coming up with an explanation for his lack of sociability today.

“It's good to see you, Dick,” M'gann said. She didn't try to hug him, having probably picked up on his mood already. Dick managed a smile, but little else.

“He's not feeling chatty today, but he wanted to hang out,” Wally—Kid Flash—explained. The team accepted that without question, not that Dick had expected anything less. He warmed up and stretched with them, as much as he could in jeans. But most of his jeans were designed to accommodate the kinds of movements he'd make if he found himself fighting in civvies. So full splits were out of the question, but he could do pretty much everything else.

Black Canary was fighting the team one-on-one today, so Dick didn't have to hang out in the corner and watch everyone else go at it. She still wiped the floor with everyone, but they lasted much longer than they had the last time they'd trained like this.

“Better,” Black Canary said, helping Kid Flash off the floor. “You still need to work on your coordination, but you have improved. Next?”

Superboy very rarely landed hits on Black Canary, and today was no exception, but he was far more agile than he used to be and managed to avoid hitting the floor for a minute or two.

“That's an improvement.” Canary let Conner pick himself up; he often took offers of help as an insult. “We're going to work some more on countering the kinds of techniques I'm employing. The more you practice dealing with people who know how to use your power against you, the better-equipped you'll become in the field.”

The whole team had a turn with her, receiving notes on their technique. Artemis always did well in these fights, even if she, like everyone else, ultimately lost. It was saddening to think about why she was so well-equipped to handle them, though, considering where those skills had come from in the first place.

When the time came for Dick's therapy session, Black Canary left Aqualad in charge of the remainder of their training session. She and Dick headed for her office.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked as they settled into their chairs. She'd made tea; it had almost become a tradition for them at this point.

“Okay-ish,” Dick replied. “Last night was pretty bad. Today was better.”

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

“I blew up at Wally,” Dick replied, dipping his finger into his tea to test the temperature. Still a touch too hot for his liking.

“That's happened before,” Dinah replied. “Was this time different?”

“Yeah. I mean, I _really_ blew up at him.” He was quite ashamed of it in hindsight, finding himself unable to look Dinah in the eyes. He settled on the green arm of his chair instead. “Everyone's been telling me I don't have to testify and... well. At some point it stops sounding like support and more like no one believes I can actually do it.”

“And that upset you.”

“Yeah.” The memory was still distressing. “We worked it out eventually, but not before I kicked Wally out, cried a river and threw my phone.”

“Why your phone?”

“We were texting after I kicked him out. It just made me more upset.” Dick took a tiny sip of his tea before he fell too far into those terrible feelings he'd barely been able to banish the previous night. “I thought I'd made a mistake by letting him see how much everything's affecting me. Like I'd made him lose faith in my ability to get through this.”

“And that's what upset you.”

Dick nodded; talking was getting difficult.

“Have the two of you resolved this?”

Dick nodded again. “Sorry. It's still a bit...” He gestured vaguely.

“I understand.” Dinah was good with this kind of thing, which was just as well. There was only so much talking Dick could do before it became too much to handle. “I'm partially responsible for this,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” Dick knew none of the people who had said this to him believed he was incapable of testifying. Well, he did now, at least. “Can we talk about something else?” He'd probably start crying again if they lingered on this too much.

“Of course.” Dinah flipped a page in her notebook. “You've got a few days until you need to testify. Did you need to talk about that?”

Dick had been trying not to think about it. He said as much.

“That's understandable,” Dinah replied. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrified,” Dick admitted. “I know I can do it, but... you know.” Talking was hard today.

“I do know,” Dinah assured him. “Remember you are protected in that room. Whatever they say, they can't hurt you in there.”

Dick nodded. That was something he'd need to remember, if he could. It got difficult to remember much of anything when Skinner was staring him down. It might even be harder this time. Dick didn't know if he could get the words out if he tried to explain that to Dinah, though, so he didn't try. At least, not in that much detail.

“I think it might be harder this time,” he said instead.

“It might be,” Dinah agreed. “Just know that you are strong enough to handle it. You've been through a lot already.”

“Yeah.” Dick found himself laughing, just a little. “What are they gonna do? Kill me? Been there, done that.”

Dinah didn't quite laugh, but she did smile. “If that helps, turn it into a mantra.”

“I might do that, actually.” It was absurd, but his whole life was absurd. He'd already been tortured and killed by one of the most terrifying human beings on the planet, if the Joker could even be considered human anymore. Hell, he'd almost taken _himself_ out on more than one occasion. He posed a greater danger to himself than almost anyone else alive. It was a weird thought, and one he decided not to sure share. That kind of thinking tended to make people nervous, even when he didn't intend to try to hurt himself again. At least, not for now. He couldn't make any promises about how he'd feel if things went wrong in this trial.

He decided to share that last bit, though, just in case.

“I'm sure your family and Wally have considered that,” Dinah said in response. “I could talk to them myself if you like, just to make sure we have plans in place if the worst happens.”

“Okay,” Dick agreed.

“We'll check in after your testimony, too, just to see how you're feeling.”

There wasn't much else to discuss. Dick could only talk about so much in these sessions anyway. He watched a movie with the team and went home, straight to bed in the batcave nook. Best not to tempt fate with the manor tonight. Wally stuck with him, pulling him out of nightmares whenever they emerged.

* * *

Dick did not feel ready to testify, but at least Van Dorn had managed to get the cross-examination put on the day after his main testimony. Apparently Powell had thrown a fit over it, but considering everything that had happened to the other witnesses, Van Dorn's case was far more convincing than his.

Dick slept a little later than the others, only waking to the sound of Alfred's voice.

“Master Bruce wished you to sleep as long as possible,” he said, setting a pile of clothes on the end of Dick's bed. “The others are in the dining room.”

The thought of food made Dick want to throw up. He sat on the edge of his bed for a while after Alfred left, gradually lifting items of clothing and putting them on. His hands shook so badly that it took him twice as long to button his shirt.

He dragged his feet all the way to the dining room. If he didn't show, someone would come looking for him. He slipped quietly through the door, watching the others eating in near-silence.

Bruce spotted him first, sitting in his usual place at the end of the table with good lines of sight to every entrance. “'Morning, Dick.”

Dick nodded. It wouldn't be wise to open his mouth right now.

“Do you feel up to eating?”

Wally turned around in his seat. “Hey.”

There was a plate set for him next to Wally. It was empty thus far, but even that was enough to push Dick over the edge. He retreated from the dining room and charged into the nearest bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he lost what was left of the meagre dinner he'd managed to choke down the previous night.

Wally stepped in while Dick was rinsing his mouth out afterwards. “Alfred squeezed some orange juice if you want to try that.”

Dick nodded. He needed something in his stomach or he wouldn't get through the day. Wally offered his hand, leading Dick back to his room. The juice was already there, plus one of those all-too-familiar icy poles. Dick went for the latter first while Wally gathered everything he would need.

“I can't be in the room today,” Wally said, pulling the charger out of Dick's phone on the bedside table. “I'll wait with you in the waiting area. Bruce, Jason and Alfred will be in the courtroom.”

Dick didn't need this today. Wally sat next to him.

“I know. I wish things were the other way round. Van Dorn could barely get Bruce's testimony put before yours.” He offered his hand for Dick to squeeze, which made him feel marginally better. “Since we're both witnesses now, we're not meant to be in the waiting area alone together, so an official will be in there with us. It'll be fine. Van Dorn and the commissioner are being super anal about who they want near us.”

It wasn't ideal, but Dick could cope with it. The icy pole was already dripping onto his hand, so he tried to lick it faster, with only limited success.

“Oh, and Bruce said the back entrance is being remodelled so we'll need to go in through the front.”

Where all the reporters gathered. Great.

“We'll keep the vultures off you,” Wally said. Neither of them laughed.

Dick finished the icy pole and started on the orange juice. Wally found Dick's wallet for him and set it next to his phone. Then, after waiting for permission, he straightened out Dick's shirt for him. Dick hadn't realised his buttons were uneven.

Bruce knocked on the bedroom door while Dick was rinsing the toothpaste off his brush and Wally was combing his hair for him.

“Are you ready to leave?” Bruce asked through the door.

“Almost,” Wally replied. “Give us a couple minutes?”

“Make it quick.”

Dick shoved his toothbrush back into its cup, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink. He took a deep breath.

“You can do this,” Wally assured him, setting the comb aside. “You're a badass.”

Dick rested his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, closing his eyes. He felt ready to vomit again. He lost track of everything Wally said after that, but the sound of his voice was soothing.

He was nowhere near ready by the time they joined the others in the car. In fact, he was halfway to hyperventilating. He kept his head low throughout the car ride, breathing as slowly as he could bear. He let Wally hold his hand, but any more contact than that was beyond his capabilities.

The steps of the courthouse were packed with reporters. Alfred stepped out of the car to open Dick's door while Bruce cleared the way. Alfred had to drive off to park, leaving Bruce to lead the others into the courthouse. His sheer bulk made more than enough space for Dick to follow, flanked by Jason and Wally. The noise pressed in on his lungs, leaving him breathless by the time they reached the top.

He didn't breathe until they stepped inside, the door snapping shut to mute the chatter of the crowd. Dick found himself leaning on Wally, sucking in air.

The click of Van Dorn's heels announced her presence. “We've just broken for lunch. Did you have trouble getting inside?”

“Nothing we couldn't handle,” Bruce replied.

“You're a human battering ram, B,” Dick said, still breathless.

“Good,” said Van Dorn. “I can show you to the waiting area if you'd prefer to avoid the public.”

Dick nodded. The last thing he needed was to run into someone like Powell just before he had to take the stand. Van Dorn had a quick conversation over the phone on the way.

“The supervising official will be here in a few minutes,” she said, opening the door for them. “Is there anything you need to talk about first?”

Dick couldn't get enough breath to speak again. Wally sat him on the nearest chair.

“Head between your knees, babe,” he directed gently.

Van Dorn _hmm_ ed. “This is a concern.”

“Give him a few minutes,” Bruce said.

By the time the official arrived, Dick could breathe again. He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

“I can do this,” he breathed. This was no different than the last time.

“I'll try to keep you comfortable in the courtroom,” Van Dorn said, “but I will need to ask about what happened at school.”

Dick nodded. “I can do it.”

“Keep that attitude,” she said. “I should make sure Powell is leaving the other witnesses alone. Call me if you need anything from me.”

“Thank you,” Dick said, watching her leave. She wouldn't let him down.

The official stepped into the room in her place. She was a young woman, dressed in a neat pantsuit. Still a stranger, but far less threatening than some of the other officials Dick had seen in the building before. He had a feeling that was a deliberate choice.

“Wally can wait in here with you,” Bruce said. “The rest of us will be in the courtroom once lunch is over. Is that okay?”

Dick nodded. He tugged Wally down to sit beside him, resting his head on the older boy's shoulder.

“You can do this,” Jason said, hovering awkwardly at Bruce's elbow. Dick managed a weak smile.

“Thanks, Jay.”

“You know I only let you get away with those crappy nicknames because I feel bad for you.”

“I know,” Dick replied with as much levity as he could muster, which wasn't much.

The official sent them on their way when the time came. Dick was starting to feel nauseous again, but he swallowed it down. He squeezed Wally's hand so hard it was a wonder his bones didn't snap under the pressure.

“Hang in there,” Wally said. “You know you can do this.”

“If I don't puke all over the judge first,” Dick muttered.

“That'd make for a great story later, though.”

“Don't encourage me.”

“I can't _not_ encourage you, babe.”

The official wasn't making eye contact, probably on purpose, but Dick could see a smile threatening to crack over her face.

“You're embarrassing our new friend,” Dick said.

“Good. My friends need to learn to handle embarrassment as early as possible.”

Dick managed a smile. “That is true.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Okay. Feeling less sick now. Hopefully it'll stick.”

Wally kissed the top of his head. “I'm sending good digestive thoughts your way.”

“Thanks.”

The official pressed her finger to an earbud she was wearing. “I'm being told to get you on standby, Mr Grayson.”

Dick got up, Wally copying his movements.

“I could use a hug,” Dick said, and Wally gave him one. “Fuck. Okay. I can do this.”

Wally gave him a quick squeeze before letting him go. “You can. Go kick ass.”

Dick followed the official to the door that led into the courtroom, his heart pounding throughout his whole body—chest, throat, head, even his legs somehow. He kept breathing. He had to hold himself together.

The courtroom was damn near silent when Dick finally stepped inside, leaving with nothing but his own unsteady breathing to keep him company. He was grateful when he was directed through the basic housekeeping, just to hear somebody speak.

He spotted Skinner amongst the group on the defence's side. The man smirked at him. Dick didn't acknowledge it, as much as the sight of it made him want to tear off his own skin.

Van Dorn stood up when the judge handed the proceedings over to her. “Welcome back, Mr Grayson. Would you like to tell us what happened on the night of Friday the Sixteenth of September?”

* * *

“And the police took you and the others to the hospital for treatment,” Van Dorn finished. “Now, that is the main set of offences dealt with. Are you up to answering questions about the additional offences included in this trial, or should we take a break?”

“I can do it.” Dick drained his glass of water. A young woman replaced it for him.

“All right.” Van Dorn shuffled around some papers. “The next offence we need to discuss is Smith's assault of you on the grounds of Gotham Academy.”

Dick took a deep breath to steel himself. This was more recent. What happened in the child brothel still ate at him, but this was a whole different kind of problem.

“You had previously not been attending class due to the trial,” Van Dorn said. “After the trial, you eventually returned, even though Mr Smith was still working there. Why?”

“After the _not guilty_ verdict, the school no longer felt I had a good reason for being absent,” Dick replied. “So I went back, on the condition Mr Smith stayed away from me. I was pulled out of history class as a result, but then Mr Smith acted as a substitute when my Math teacher was off sick.”

“Which gave him access to you that should have been denied,” Van Dorn said. “What happened in that class?”

“I couldn't concentrate with him around,” Dick replied. “My classmate, Barbara Gordon, tried to help me but Mr Smith got on our case for talking in class. Mind you, everyone else was talking as they worked. By the end of class, I hadn't gotten much done so Mr Smith asked me to stay behind. Barbara was forced to leave, so she called both our dads.”

“And you were left alone with Mr Smith. For how long?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“What happened during that time?”

Dick needed more water, so he drank. “Mr Smith accused me of lying about him. He grabbed my face, told me nobody would believe me if I ever said he did anything to me.” Those words were enough to prick tears into the corners of his eyes. He blinked until they were gone, but his throat was painfully tight and would not budge.

Van Dorn's voice was gentler than he'd ever heard it. “What did he do?”

“He forced me to the floor,” Dick said, barely raising his voice enough to be heard throughout the room. “Then he...” Why was this so hard? He'd already described worse things. _Objectively_ worse. He caught Bruce's eyes in that moment. Bruce was leaning forward in his seat. He already knew what happened. He didn't move, gave no indication of encouragement whatsoever. But Dick didn't need that. He knew Bruce cared.

Dick managed to suck in enough air to speak. “Mr Smith forced me to perform oral sex on him. Physically forced. Then he let me go.”

“Why did he let you go?”

“Who would take my word over his?” said Dick. “No one, not after the last trial fell through. He knew that. I knew that. If there hadn't been cameras installed in the school, he could've gotten away with anything he wanted and just let me go as many times as he liked.” Dick likely would've kept trying to kill himself until he succeeded if that had been the case. Maybe Bruce would've been worried enough to put him in a mental health facility, far away from Skinner and everyone else. Assuming the professionals there weren't the type to take advantage of their charges.

“We _can_ show the footage if necessary,” Van Dorn. “Not while you're in the room, Mr Grayson. There is also the issue of the charge of possession of child pornography, but I have no questions about that for the moment. The video speaks for itself.” She closed up her file. “Are there any details you feel you have left out?”

“None spring to mind,” Dick replied. He felt empty. He couldn't have thought up any further information even if it had been important.

“We'll revisit all this to make sure we have all the details correct later in the trial,” said Van Dorn. “The prosecution has no further questions, your honour.”

“Tomorrow morning we will commence with the cross-examination of the witness,” said the judge. “This court is adjourned for today.”

Dick retreated to the waiting area while everyone else cleared out. He was sorely tempted to collapse into a chair and never get up again, but he was also mere inches away from losing his battle with the nausea.

“How'd it go?” Wally asked, picking himself up from his chair. The official was standing unobtrusively off to the side.

Dick shrugged. Talking was too dangerous.

“Are you going to be sick?”

Dick nodded.

The official fished a set of keys out of her jacket pocket. “I can let you into the staff bathroom nearby.” She led them into the hallway, heading further into the building until they reached a _staff only_ door, which she unlocked. “I'll make sure your family knows where you are.”

“Did you want me to come in with you?” Wally asked. Dick dragged him inside, shutting the door. He leaned against the wall by the toilet, breathing carefully. Wally hung back by the sink.

Dick was right on the edge. All the effort he'd put into keeping his liquid breakfast down had left him with the nausea and an inability to relieve it. He couldn't get in the car like this. He'd have to wait until he either succumbed or the feeling went away.

The classroom played in his mind. Skinner towering over him, secure and smug in the knowledge that Dick couldn't do a thing to stop him. How many times had the man forced himself on him by now? It had to be in the dozens, at least.

Dick's knees hit the floor, pain jolting through his legs, and his stomach contracted. Warm hands brushed his temples, pulling his hair back. He'd already thrown up what was left of his food, leaving only liquid to escape now. His throat burned, forcing tears to his eyes.

He sat back, his hand shaking in its grip on the top of the tank. Wally reached past him for the flush, then settled down to rub his back.

“Need a minute?”

Dick nodded; it was all he could do at the moment. A light knock on the door had Wally moving away, just for a moment, returning with a glass of water. Dick gulped it down. He felt better.

“We should go,” he croaked. Wally helped him up.

Bruce and Jason were in the corridor, along with the official and Van Dorn.

“Alfred's getting the car,” Bruce said. “Are you ready to leave?”

Dick nodded.

“You did well today,” Van Dorn said. “Get some rest. We'll discuss the cross-examination before you take the stand.”

They left. Dick took a moment to brace himself before stepping outside. The noise smacked his eardrums immediately.

Bruce led the way again. Dick tried to tune out the reporters' questions as they worked their way down the steps.

“Mr Grayson!” A hand gripped his arm, forcing Dick to stop. He didn't know the man holding onto him.

“Bruce!” Dick called. Bruce paused, then hurried back up the steps.

“Let go of him,” Bruce growled.

“I just want to ask a few questions.”

“No.”

They continued to argue. Something in the air caught Dick's eye. Across the street, at the top of a building. Some kind of glint. It could've been anything, but he certainly wasn't going to take chances today.

Dick managed to wrench his arm free, take one more step down towards the cover of the car. “Snipe—”

Bone-shattering force. Dick's head smacked the steps, vision blurring on impact. Hands on him, pressing urgently against his chest. Sound was everywhere but somehow muted, as if flowing through water.

He blinked. Bruce's hands on him were red. Wally squeezed his hand.

“You've been shot, babe,” Wally said.

“Oh.” That explained it.

“Shh. Don't talk. Use your strength to stay awake.”

Not yet. “B.”

“I'm here,” Bruce said.

Dick tried to breathe, but high up on the left side of his chest burned with sharp agony. “Did you see?”

“No. Did you?”

Dick put all his effort into raising his right arm, pointing at the top of the building. Bruce nodded, and he could drop his arm. The effort left him gasping for air.

“I'll get it checked out,” Bruce promised. “Stay with me.”

Breathing was impossible, coming in shorter and shorter gasps. The pain was dimming, along with his sight.

Wally's voice cut through. “Stay awake, babe. As long as you can. Help's coming, okay? Hang in there.”

Dick could just make out sirens. Looking around took too much effort. Wally curled over Dick's head, staying in his line of sight, talking and talking and talking even though Dick could no longer make out what he was saying.

It didn't hurt as much anymore, as exhaustion took the place of pain. His eyelids were heavy. Maybe he could rest them, just for a moment...


	39. Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman investigates the shooting while Dick is treated at the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to the sexual assault of minors, the shooting, Dick's injuries.
> 
> Also, fun game: spot the Mass Effect reference in this chapter.

The police commissioner was already at the scene when Batman arrived. The sun was still out, but now was not the time to worry about arbitrary, self-imposed rules.

“Isn't it a little early for you?” Jim said, crouching by a shell casing on the rooftop.

“I was watching,” Batman replied.

“Of course you were.” Jim laid down a numbered evidence placard and took a photo of the casing. “I'm keeping the others busy. This case has brought out the ugly in too many of my people already.”

Batman took his own picture, waiting for Jim's go-ahead before he picked up the casing and scanned it with his wrist computer to analyse back in the cave.

“Richard's in surgery,” Jim said, dropping the shell casing into an evidence bag, which he then labelled. “Bruce is apparently beside himself, so Alfred is keeping me updated.”

Batman suspected Jim knew he was already up-to-date on that information. He crossed to the other evidence placard Jim had set down, where the stone at the edge of the roof had been scraped slightly. Batman knelt to find metal in the groove, plus a hair.

“I figured you'd want to see that before I moved it,” Jim said, preparing a tube to put the hair in. He waited until Batman scanned it, then continued with his work. “Have you spoken to Dick since the rescue last year?”

“Occasionally,” Batman replied. “I see his father more often.” It wasn't exactly a lie. Batman was the master of half-truths when it came to his identity.

Jim sighed, putting the evidence away. “The kid hasn't been out much since this all happened. It seems he gets shot at every time he tries to leave the house.”

“We found the people responsible last time,” Batman replied. “We will do it again.”

“I hope so. The kid's been through enough.”

“He's strong,” Batman replied. Even so, Dick deserved to have something go right for a change. Maybe it would this time, if he pulled through. You didn't try to assassinate people if you didn't believe they were a threat.

Batman and the commissioner continued processing the scene in companionable silence. Batman left as soon as they were finished. He needed to get back to the batcave and get the computer analysing the evidence, then he needed to hurry down to the hospital.

He would not find out something had happened to Dick second-hand.

* * *

The first thing Dick noticed was the smell. Antiseptic. Clean linen. His finger slid a fraction, feeling it under his skin. His other arm—the left—was held in place by some kind of sling. He didn't like it.

Then, he heard soft chatter. Distant, like it was in another room. The soft breaths of people nearby.

His eyes hurt to open. The light.

“Hey.” Wally's voice. Soft.

Dick's throat was dry. He swallowed, finding Wally seated in a chair by his bedside. “Hey.”

“You've got to stop nearly dying,” came Jason's voice. Dick found him hunched in the corner, Alfred standing calmly beside him.

“Master Bruce is speaking with the doctors,” Alfred said. “He will be along shortly.”

Wally lifted a cup from the table, fitting the straw into Dick's mouth for him. He set it back down once Dick had drunk enough.

“What time is it?” Dick had to concentrate to get the words out. He couldn't feel much of anything.

“Morning,” Wally replied. “You were in surgery for a while, and then they kept you under for the rest of the night.”

If Dick had been strong enough, he would've jolted out of bed. “The trial.” He was meant to be there right now.

“Given the circumstances, the judge has agreed to move your testimony,” said Alfred. “The commissioner and district attorney wish to speak with you as soon as possible.”

Bruce slipped inside. “You're awake?”

“It's only been a few minutes,” Wally said.

“Good, good...” Bruce knelt by the bed. “You were right about the location. We found a shell casing and DNA evidence.”

“Not Deathstroke, then.” Dick hadn't suspected him anyway.

“Deathstroke wouldn't have missed your vitals,” Bruce replied. “Most of the damage hit right under your collarbone. Any further up or to the left and either your collarbone or your shoulder would've shattered. As it is, your ribs are a mess.”

“So I'm simultaneously the luckiest and unluckiest person in the world.”

“Pretty much.” Bruce managed a smile. A small one. “I should let the commissioner and DA know you're awake.” He stepped out of the room, phone already to his ear. He wouldn't get told off; he was Bruce Wayne.

Jason edged further to the bed. “Lex Luthor's testimony got pushed forward. I don't know when you'll be. If they'll even put you back on the stand.”

“They better,” Dick said; his guts turned hot with anger at the thought of getting pulled out now.

“That's something you'll need to talk to the DA about,” Wally said. “Apparently Gordon's trying to talk her into keeping you out.”

“That's not his decision. It's mine.”

Alfred couldn't stop himself from straightening a crease in the blanket. “Of course, sir.”

“I mean it.” If Skinner and his people thought a murder attempt would scare him enough to keep him out of the courthouse, they were sorely mistaken. They were back on familiar territory now. Dick knew how to handle murder attempts. If anything, they'd bolstered his confidence rather than deflated it.

Bruce came back in. “They'll head over during lunch. Is your medication high enough? You're not normally this alert.”

“I'm still high,” Dick assured him. He didn't really feel like it, but since he wasn't in much pain, he had to be. “Just pissed off. That always clears my head.” He was already getting sick of being unable to move his left arm. The recovery was going to _suck_.

“You scare me,” Wally said.

“I've always scared you.”

“In every way imaginable,” Wally muttered. “Jesus. When was the last time you went in public and _didn't_ get shot at?”

“Van Dorn's office,” Dick replied. “Then again, I wasn't out for long.”

Bruce sighed. “You should keep resting. Maybe take some more medication.”

A nurse came in to check his IV, agreeing with Bruce's recommendation. Dick still hadn't felt much pain up to this point. Then again, rage was a hell of an anaesthetic.

With Dick now conscious and out of danger, Alfred took Jason home. Bruce stayed in the hospital somewhere, probably pestering the doctors outside the room.

“You had everyone worried,” Wally said.

“Sorry. I'll try to dodge next time.”

Wally shook his head at him. “Seriously. You could've died.”

“I know.”

“You are weirdly calm about this.”

Dick wanted to shrug, but remembered at the last minute that it wasn't a good idea. “I'm used to being shot at. Besides, they wouldn't have gone for me if they didn't think I was a threat.”

“You got shot at the rally,” Wally pointed out.

“They weren't aiming for me specifically,” Dick replied. “It was a semi-automatic spray designed to scare us. A sniper rifle's a bit more personal. I don't know. That was before we got a retrial. I wasn't coping with anything too well.”

“You coped about as well as anyone could in your situation.” Wally rubbed Dick's knuckles.

“Not the point, Walls.” Dick could feel the medication creeping into his system, making his eyelids heavy.

Wally kissed his fingers. “You've got a few hours till lunch. You should rest.”

“What if I don't want to?”

“Not this again.”

“I'm kidding.”

“Okay, you're starting to freak me out with how chill you're being.”

“I can deal with attempts on my life, Walls,” Dick reminded him. “People have been trying to kill me since I was nine years old.”

“That's just depressing. Go to sleep. I need some time to process this.”

Dick would've argued a little more, but he really was getting quite drowsy. The instant he shut his eyes, he was out for the count.

* * *

He was a little groggy when he woke up around lunchtime. Bruce had taken Wally's place at his bedside.

“Barry and Iris took Wally out for lunch,” Bruce explained. “You'll be pleased to know they almost had to physically drag him away.”

Dick rolled his eyes. Naturally.

“Commissioner Gordon and the DA will be here shortly. Wally should be back first.” Bruce, like everyone else, apparently couldn't resist straightening the blankets. “The shooter was likely aiming for your heart, so it's fortunate you took that last step before the bullet hit you.”

Dick had figured that much out already. “I am feeling pretty fortunate.”

Bruce's hand came down on his, squeezing his fingers in a grip that bordered on pain. “How's your breathing? The doctors were worried about lung damage.”

“Painful,” Dick replied, “but manageable.”

“Good.” Bruce's eyes flicked to the injury, even though it was hidden under Dick's hospital robe. “This shouldn't have happened.”

“Obviously,” Dick said dryly. He could just _feel_ Bruce's self-imposed guilt trip coming on, and he did not have the energy for that shit right now.

“I should've accounted for this. My main concern was getting you to the witness stand unharmed. Attacking you afterwards seemed pointless. Someone on the outside must have arranged it. Maybe even Powell. I'll look into it.”

“I know you will,” Dick said. He would've liked to say more—mainly to tell Bruce he needed to chill the hell out—but breathing sent a sharp pain up the left side of his chest.

“Your safety is my responsibility, Dick.”

“Tough gig,” Dick said.

“The toughest I've ever had,” Bruce muttered. “I need to get it right. You've been through enough.”

“Bruce.” Dick could barely breathe enough to speak, but he gave it a red hot go. “You didn't shoot me.”

“You need more medication,” Bruce said instead of responding, pressing the call button for a nurse.

“ _Bruce_.”

Bruce, to Dick's surprise, nodded. “I know. I just... seeing you like this...”

“You're doing everything you can,” Dick assured him. His voice came out a little strangled due to a lack of air. A nurse gave him another doze of medication. It had only just started to take effect by the time Wally came back with his aunt and uncle in tow.

“Hey, Dick,” said Barry. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy. And stoned. Peaches are stone fruits, right?”

“Very clever, Dick,” Bruce said indulgently. “You have a few minutes before the commissioner and DA arrive. I'll be nearby.” He slipped out of the room. Dick probably would've thrown a shoe at him if he'd had easy access to one, just as a reminder to stop being a pain about all this.

Wally kissed his forehead, settling back into the chair. “I didn't want to leave.”

“I heard.”

“Of course you did,” Wally muttered, glaring at Barry and Iris.

“How low did your blood sugar get?” Dick asked. “Just out of interest.”

“Shut up.”

“He nearly passed out in the hallway,” Iris answered.

“I did not.”

“Yeah, you did,” Barry said. “I thought we'd have to carry you to the cafeteria.”

“It wasn't _that bad_.”

“You're ridiculous,” Dick said.

Iris apparently couldn't resist adjusting Dick's blankets, smoothing out the ends.

“You too, huh?” said Dick. “I swear everyone's done that at least once.” Breathing was a lot easier now. Being more alert, he was also far more aware of the slightly sunken look of everyone's faces, especially Wally's, as if none of them had slept the previous night.

Iris patted the blanket. “Great minds think alike.”

“Funny,” Wally said, resting his head in his hand, elbow balanced precariously on the edge of the nightstand. “Don't you have work?”

“I'm still on my lunch break,” Iris said.

“I'll run her back soon,” Barry added. “Then I've got a date with the Watchtower lab. Bruce has me running tests on the sniper evidence as a backup.”

“Well, you are a forensic scientist,” Dick replied.

“And whoever shot you is an amateur,” said Barry. “I mean, they were literally across the street. One little movement from you and their aim is off by enough that you survive? Please. I bet we're dealing with an army reject. Or a hobbyist.”

“Lucky me.”

“Bruce is going to look into Powell's accounts, see if he can find a money trail.”

“He probably used cash.” Not that it would stop Bruce from picking up even the slightest whiff of corruption.

“Bruce has his ways.” Barry reached for Iris's hand. “Anyway, we should get back to work. Glad you're not dead.”

“Me too,” Dick replied. “Dead people can't testify.”

“Of course that's your main concern,” Wally grumbled.

“Well, it's not like I'm gonna get a third chance at life just so I can seek vengeance _again_.”

“I hope you're joking.”

“You'll never know.”

“ _Yeah_ , we're gonna leave Wally to deal with you,” Barry said.

“Traitors,” Wally muttered as Barry and Iris left the room. He ran a hand over his face. “I need at least seven more hours of sleep before I can handle this today.”

“You could go curl up in the corner while the DA and commissioner are here,” Dick replied. “We'll talk quietly.”

“I'm not leaving you unsupervised. You'll—I don't know—try to run a marathon or something the instant I turn my back.”

“Probably.” Dick was in that kind of mood. He'd only run the marathon if there was something to punch at the end of it, though.

Wally looked perilously close to tears over the whole thing—whether out of distress over the situation, frustration with Dick or just sheer tiredness was up for debate—but Bruce chose that moment to poke his head in. “The DA and police commissioner are here.”

Dick squeezed Wally's hand, more for the latter's comfort than his own. “Okay. I'm ready whenever they are.”

Van Dorn entered first. Wally offered his seat, but she turned him down, instead choosing to stand on the other side of Dick's bed. Commissioner Gordon lingered in the doorway, passing orders to an officer standing outside, before he and Bruce entered properly and shut the door.

“How are you, Dick?” Gordon asked.

“Not bad, all things considered,” Dick replied. “Not sure how long I'm gonna be stuck in here, but if the District Attorney—hey, Janet—can work me back into the schedule, I should be able to testify.” A sentence that long left him a little breathless.

Wally rolled his eyes. “It's your own fault for talking too much.”

“You don't have to testify,” Gordon said.

“I know,” Dick replied, as politely as he could while short of breath and slightly off his head with pain meds. “I want to see this to the end. What're they gonna do? Kill me?”

“You're not funny,” Wally muttered.

“I told you he wouldn't agree to that,” Van Dorn told the commissioner.

Gordon just sighed.

“I'll make sure work on the back entrance is finished by the time you need to come in,” said Van Dorn. “The commissioner is already reviewing security measures and investigating the shooting. We will make the courthouse and surrounding area as safe as it can be.”

“Thank you.” Dick hadn't expected anything less. “I'd love to tear Smith apart with my own bare hands, but I guess testifying will have to do. He'll get his ass kicked in prison.”

“We'll make sure he gets there,” said Van Dorn.

“I have officers guarding your room,” said Gordon.

“I figured.”

“I meant to tell you,” Bruce said, “but with everything that has happened, it slipped my mind.”

“I forgive you.” Dick didn't need to give him anything else to feel bad about.

“I'll need to speak with the doctors,” Van Dorn said. “I can't imagine you'll be fit to testify right away.”

“Maybe if I try hard and believe in myself.”

Wally groaned loudly. “ _Stooop_.”

Van Dorn, rather charitably, pretended that didn't happen. She left to talk to the doctors.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gordon asked.

“I'm sure,” Dick replied. “They're obviously scared of me. I'm just wondering why they didn't try to take me out _before_ I took the stand.”

“Janet asked the judge not to reveal your schedule until that morning,” Gordon replied. “Given the circumstances, the judge agreed.”

“So whoever hired the shooter didn't have enough time to find someone before I showed up,” Dick finished for him. That made more sense. “They made do with taking me out before the cross-examination.”

“Which wasn't very smart,” Wally added. “Your testimony would stand and they wouldn't be able to tear you to pieces.”

“Or they could find a way to do it without me being present to defend myself,” Dick pointed out.

“Okay, maybe slightly smart.”

Gordon's phone buzzed. “That'll be Barbara. Again. She hasn't stopped texting me about you all day.”

“Well, you can tell her I'm okay,” Dick replied. “She can visit if she likes.”

“I can pick her up after school if you're busy,” Bruce offered.

“Don't get into another argument with the staff,” Gordon said.

Bruce gave his best Brucie smile.

“Oh, dear God,” Dick said. “What did you _do_?”

“I had a few words with the principal, which may have upset him.” Bruce's smile sharpened. “I also may have threatened to sever the funding Gotham Academy receives from Wayne Enterprises.”

“Well, they did let me get raped on school grounds,” Dick replied, not even bothering to hide the heat of rage that spread through his gut at the memory. At least it was better than a full-blown breakdown.

“I may have mentioned that, which apparently hurt his feelings.”

Dick could feel his own smile matching Bruce's. “We'll see how his feelings fare when this trial proves me right, won't we? I can't imagine the parents will like the fact Gotham Academy let a rapist near their children.”

“Keep it under control until the trial is finished,” Gordon told Bruce. “Then you can do what you like, once he can no longer accuse you of defamation.”

“Very well,” Bruce said. “That will give me plenty of time to prepare.”

The principal wouldn't be remaining the principal for much longer if Bruce had anything to say about it. Dick hoped the vice principal would get the job once it was up for grabs. He had fond memories of her during his placement test last year.

Gordon and Van Dorn had to go back to work shortly afterwards. Wally looked like he'd aged twenty years.

“You'd think I'd remember what you're like on pain meds by now,” he muttered.

“This is the real me, Wally. The drugs just lower my inhibitions.”

“I know. It scares me.”

“You're giving me a headache,” Bruce said. “I'm leaving.” And he did.

“He sat outside your window all night,” Wally said quietly. “In costume, I mean.”

“I'm not surprised.” Dick appreciated the thought, but he hoped Gotham didn't suffer in Batman's absence.

“Batgirl and Robin patrolled together,” Wally added. “Nothing massive happened. They stopped a few muggings and an armed robbery. Barb got grazed by a bullet but she's fine.”

Dick took too deep a breath, cutting a path of pain along the left side of his chest. “Define _grazed_.”

“She needed a bandage but no stitches.”

This secret identity thing was a nightmare. She was coming by later and Dick would have to suffer through watching her try to hide that injury while he tried to hide that he knew about it. Great. And he couldn't talk to her about it until the sling was gone so he could get in costume.

“Bruce and Alfred have both checked her over,” Wally assured him. “She's totally fine. Bruce already gave her the talk about unnecessary risks and blah blah blah.”

“It'll sound different coming from me,” Dick replied. “I mean, I'm the one who died.”

“You can talk to her when you're better. And maybe when the trial's over. Let's deal with one thing at a time.”

Dick hated it when Wally was right about this stuff. So he flopped around as much as he could with his injuries and complained until Wally put his hand over his mouth to shut him up.

* * *

Barbara came by after school, with Artemis in tow. The injury was almost undetectable, if not for the slightest hint of stiffness in the way she held her arm. If Dick had been a civilian, he mightn't have picked up on it. He swallowed down the anxiety it brought out in him.

Barbara went in for a hug, but pulled back and squeezed his hand instead. “How are you? I visited yesterday but you were still in surgery.”

“I'm okay,” Dick assured her. “The bullet avoided anything vital. Gonna take a while for my ribs to grow back, though.”

“Fun,” said Artemis. “You look okay, considering. Wally looks worse.”

Wally had his head resting on folded arms on Dick's bed. “Shut up.”

“Shh.” Dick rubbed Wally's arm, just a little; moving too much hurt. “Go back to sleep. Sit down, you two. There's space on the bed. I'll be fine as long as you don't jump.”

The girls carefully sat down. Dick tried to hide a wince as the bed shifted under their weight.

“Bruce said you're still going to testify,” Barbara said.

“That's the plan.”

“No one's forcing you, are they?” Barbara squeezed his foot through the covers. “You don't have to do that.”

“Barb,” Artemis said, her voice warm with amusement. “If Dick didn't want to testify, he'd tell them all to fuck off. You know how he gets.”

“They tried to stop me, actually,” Dick added. “But I've already started. I'd rather be there when they try to assassinate my character. Then I can defend myself.”

“Great choice of words, babe,” Wally mumbled, slightly muffled by his arms.

“Thanks.”

“You're really calm about this,” said Barbara. Wally groaned his agreement.

“They already tried to kill me, and all that did was piss me off,” Dick replied. “What're they going to do now? Maybe they should've paced themselves, given me something to fear in the future. But no. They showed their hand too soon and fucked it up. I'm done being afraid of them.”

“Good man,” said Artemis. She very gently bumped their fists together.

Barbara's face pinched oddly as she watched the exchange. She stayed quiet while Artemis kept talking.

“Too bad you didn't get a cast,” Artemis said, carefully poking the knuckle of the hand trapped in Dick's sling.

“Do I want to know what you would've written?”

“Of course you do.”

“She drew a dick on one of mine ages ago,” Wally said, sitting up. “You weren't around for that one.”

“It was art.”

“Let me guess, Arty,” Dick replied. “You were going to reuse that.”

“I was. Now I can't, since Wally _ruined it_.”

“I'm sure you'll have another opportunity one day,” Dick soothed.

“I better.”

“Who's due to break something next?” said Dick. “I broke my ankle last year. I'm off the hook. Barb?”

“When did you break your ankle?” Barbara asked, completely ignoring the question.

“Over the summer,” Dick answered. “It wasn't a big deal. I got the cast off just before Bruce's gala.”

“ _It wasn't a big deal_ ,” Barbara muttered. “You worry me sometimes.”

“I have that effect on people.”

“How high are you right now?” Artemis asked.

“Pretty up there,” Dick answered. “Much higher and I wouldn't be lucid at all.”

“How are you even holding a conversation?”

“Mind over matter.”

“He's been like this all day,” said Wally. “Consider yourselves lucky you weren't around when he was completely off his head.”

“ _Slightly_ off my head,” Dick corrected. “You've seen me high on painkillers before. You should be able to tell the difference.”

“I'm tired. Leave alone.”

“I told you to go back to sleep.”

“Aren't you due for more medication?” Wally asked. “As much as I hate to remind you, since it'll make you even more insufferable.”

“The pain's minimal,” Dick replied. It was actually the truth. Breathing hurt a little every so often, but it wasn't a constant pain yet. He could still talk everyone's ears off for a while longer.

“So you are in pain,” Barbara pressed.

“My life is pain, Barb. It's totally manageable. Let me be free for a few more minutes before I become the annoying drunk friend again. I could _feel_ Wally wanting to strangle me.”

“None of that is reassuring.”

“I'm calling the nurse,” Wally said, pressing the button. “I'd rather you be _a_ pain than _in_ pain.”

“Ooh, nice one,” Dick replied. “But I'm still mad about this.”

“Okay,” Barbara interjected. “I can't do this. You're freaking me out. I saw you at school. I saw you at the rally. They shot you at the rally and you were nowhere _near_ this calm. I just... I don't know.”

“I wasn't calm at the rally or at school because I was in a really bad place,” Dick told her. He didn't want to talk about it, but Barbara wasn't going to calm down until he did. He supposed it must appear strange to her how casual he was behaving about the whole ordeal. “The retrial wasn't a sure thing back then. I felt... I don't know. People weren't believing me and that took a huge toll on my mental health after everything I'd been through.” Wally squeezed his hand. “I felt powerless.” He could feel the ghost of those feelings creeping in, just at the edges, and he fought it down. Skinner's words at school. He blocked them out. Fuck that.

“We've got the trial now,” Wally continued for him. “Van Dorn made sure no one knew when Dick was testifying as long as possible. So he was able to get his main testimony out before they tried to shut him up. Like, he'd already done his main testimony. If they weren't afraid of him, why would they bother trying afterwards? They didn't want him around to defend himself for the cross-section. But he is.”

“And they're going to fucking pay,” Dick finished. “I'm not calm. I'm _pissed._ I can handle feeling pissed far better than I can handle feeling helpless.”

“Okay, I get it,” Barbara said. “I think.”

“I'm gonna hang onto being angry for as long as possible,” Dick told her. “It'll keep me from falling to pieces, at least until all this is over.” If it would ever be over. He shoved the thought aside; it wasn't productive.

“Stealing from the Artemis Crock playbook, I see,” said Artemis.

“At least you're self-aware about it,” Wally said to both of them. Barbara looked like she wanted to stab every person in the room.

They girls stayed a little longer before they had to return to their lives. There was a fire in Barbara's eyes that made Dick think he would probably see more than one caped figure outside his window tonight.

“You're gonna hate me for saying this,” Wally said, grasping Dick's hand in both of his.

“You're a pretty hard guy to hate, Walls.” Because if Dick didn't try to make a joke, he would probably panic. Fun.

“You might change your mind in minute.”

Dick's level of patience was declining as he became more aware of the pain in his ribs. “Spit it out.”

A muscle twitched in Wally's jaw. He stared down at their joined hands, his lips pressed firmly together. He wasn't going to start talking until Dick pushed him.

“Wally...”

“Sorry.” Wally's finger twitched. “I just... I really wish you weren't going to testify.” He still wouldn't meet Dick's eyes. “It's not about how strong you are, okay? If you hadn't moved, you would've died. I can't...” He trailed off, hunching lower until his hair hid his face. Dick wanted to touch his hair, but moving wasn't a great idea right now, so he made do with getting his fingers around one of Wally's hands, both of which were still holding on.

“I need to do this,” Dick said quietly.

Wally swallowed. “For yourself, or for everyone else?”

“Both.” Dick couldn't quite find the level of softness Wally clearly needed from him today. His voice was a touch too sharp, even for himself. “We both know they'll try to discredit me. It'll be harder to defend myself if I'm not there. I survived getting shot; I'm not sure I can survive losing this trial.”

Wally lifted his head enough to show his face again, eyes sharp through the curtains of his hair. “We're _not_ going to lose.”

“I need to make sure.” Dick couldn't leave this up to everyone else. He needed to do his part. He needed to feel useful, like he could actually do something to help. He couldn't just sit back and let decisions be made about the people who made his life a living hell.

“I can't talk you out of it, can I?”

“No.”

“Fuck.” Wally bent over their hands, kissing Dick's knuckles. “If you die on me, I'll be very upset.”

“I'll try to stay alive.”

“You better.”

“And you need to keep on top of school,” Dick said; he needed to change the subject before Wally got too upset. “Have you even touched your homework this week?”

“It's not important right now.”

“Like hell it isn't. I'm not letting you throw your senior year down the toilet because of me.”

Wally laughed weakly. “You're ridiculous.”

“Bring your books when you visit next time,” Dick said, ignoring Wally's comment. “And you're going to sleep in a bed tonight.”

“But—”

“I'll be fine,” Dick interrupted. “There are police outside the door and capes outside my window. You look deader than me, and I'm the one who just got shot. You're not taking any more days off school. If you start failing, I will kick your ass, hospital bed be damned.”

“Okay, okay.”

The nurse came in to give Dick his next dose of pain medication. She had a kind face. Dick liked her.

“You should kiss me,” Dick told Wally after she left.

“Oh, should I?”

“Unless you're opposed,” Dick teased.

Wally smiled, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through Dick's hair. “Have I told you you're ridiculous lately?”

“Quite a lot, actually.”

“Well, it bears repeating.” Then Wally kissed him, and all was right in the world.


	40. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick gets home from the hospital and braces himself for the cross-examination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter makes sense. I was pretty awake when I wrote it and tired as hell when I edited haha oops.
> 
> Warnings: discussion of the sexual assault of minors, victim-blaming, medical stuff.

Dick had to spend a few more days in the hospital before he was cleared to go home.

Climbing the few stairs into the manor was difficult, but he refused more than the token arm Wally offered him. He had to lean against the wall for a moment, getting his breath back, feeling the surgical stitches from his recent rib reconstruction flex with the effort. Ugh. Time for more medication, apparently.

“I took the liberty of preparing lunch for your arrival, sir,” said Alfred. Dick let Wally steer him to the dining room. Sitting was a blessing, as was the whole eating thing. His new pain meds had to be taken with food. Alfred had the foresight to just go with sandwiches, given one of Dick's arms was still in the sling that made cutting food impossible.

“The police have arrested the shooter,” Bruce said, passing Dick a plate over Jason's head. “Military reject. Had some of the training and none of the real-life experience. He took a plea deal, but he'll likely spend at least a decade in prison regardless.”

“He spilled the beans as soon as Batman looked at him,” Jason said. “Skinner's got a new headache to deal with after this trial is over.”

“Here's to cowardly henchmen,” Dick said, raising his glass of water. Jason and Wally clinked theirs with his.

“The only simple solution we've had lately,” said Wally.

“I like it. Let's have more.”

Bruce smiled indulgently. “I'm working on it. How are you feeling?”

“I'll feel better once the meds kick in, but I'm not about to keel over, which is nice.”

“You've already hit your dying quota,” said Jason. “You're not allowed to die again.”

Dick had to lie down for a bit after lunch while he waited for the pain medication to do its job. Wally sat by him with a massive textbook in his lap, highlighting what looked like the entire page.

Dick poked him with his good arm. “Got a test coming up?”

“Every test in the world,” Wally muttered.

“I believe in you.”

“Thanks.”

Dick had strapped his computer watch to his sling arm, using his free hand to move the holo-display above his head so he could actually look at the damn thing. He had loaded a whole bunch of books onto it, including textbooks and novels. Bruce and Alfred had set him a curriculum ages ago, letting him chip away at it whenever he could.

He picked out one of the shorter novels, which he'd read before. With the way his mind was functioning of late, he needed multiple reads to retain any kind of detail. So he got on that. If he went back to Gotham Academy—or somewhere else—he had no intention of falling behind his old standards. As soon as this shit was dealt with, he could focus on recovering, on becoming the person he should've been all along had the Joker and Skinner's people not gotten in the way.

He damn well deserved it.

Reading took more time than it used to. Dick refused to feel frustrated. Progress was progress.

Wally took a break from his textbook to lean over and press his lips to Dick's brow. “The meds kicked in yet?”

“Starting to,” Dick replied, swiping to the next page on the display. “How's the studying?”

“I hate school more than I ever have in my life.”

“You don't have long to go. Hang in there, don't fail, live the dream.”

Wally snorted. “Is that the pain meds talking or just your natural charm?”

“No idea.”

Wally slapped a sheet of paper on top of his textbook and started writing out notes. “Well, points for honesty.”

Dick didn't get around much those first few days at home. Wally had to leave for school during the day, which made the manor infinitely more suffocating, but Bruce and Alfred always made sure one of them was nearby. Dinah visited to help keep Dick healthy in spite of his injuries, and talk to him about the trial.

“So I hear getting shot has actually made you feel better about the trial.” Dinah knelt on the edge of the bed, carefully changing Dick's bandages for him.

Dick kept his arm still for the short time it would be out of the sling; he'd learned the hard way why it was usually bound up. “They wouldn't have shot me if they weren't scared of me.” He felt a little light-headed from sitting up after spending most of his time lying down.

Dinah secured the bandage, examining her handwork. “That is a good point.”

“Plus I'm still pretty mad about it, which is easier to deal with than being scared shitless.”

“Another good point.” Dinah helped Dick dress and put the sling back on. It was slow going, because it hurt like a _bitch_.

“Remind me to never get shot in the chest again. _Christ_.”

“I'll put an alert in my phone.” Dinah adjusted the sling one last time. “There. That should be all the pain we need for one day.”

“I might vomit.”

Dinah helped him lie down. “Deep breaths. You'll be fine.” There was a bucket that practically lived in Dick's guest room at this point, just for this purpose. It was strangely liberating for his nausea to come from a physical ailment rather than heart-stopping anxiety.

Dick breathed, and the nausea passed. That was refreshing.

“Better?” Dinah asked.

“Better.”

Dinah settled herself back on the edge of the bed. “The team's been asking after you.”

Dick appreciated that. “Well, I can't travel much, but if you can convince Bruce to let them visit...”

“I'll start writing a speech now. Any tips?”

“Tell him I'm lonely and sad because I can't visit them myself. He'll cave. Probably. As long as Batgirl doesn't get an invite. Secret identities and stuff. She'll have to come another time as a civilian.” Dick was totally okay with putting Barbara off for a few days. He needed to get more of his strength back before dealing with secret identities again.

“We'll sort it out,” Dinah promised. “I'll talk to him after Wally gets here.”

By the time that happened, Dick had taken another dose of medication and was free from both nausea and pain... for the time being. He fell into a doze with Wally filling out some kind of worksheet beside him, and woke to find his room full of people.

M'gann had put on her human disguise for the occasion. “Hi, Dick. Did we wake you?”

“I... don't think so.” Dick always took longer to wake up properly when medicated. Wally helped him sit up against the headboard.

“Give him a minute,” Wally said. “He's still pretty drugged up.”

Dick yawned into the back of his hand. “Make yourselves comfortable. You can sit on the bed. I'm not that fragile.”

M'gann took the invitation first, sitting by Dick's knees with her legs folded beneath her. Zatanna and Artemis opted for Wally's side while Kaldur and Raquel settled themselves at the foot of the bed. Conner remained standing, leaning against the wall as his only concession to Dick's request.

“Couldn't get a hold of Roy?” Dick asked.

“We're keeping him updated,” said Artemis.

“He found another lead for Speedy,” Kaldur added. “A weak one, admittedly, but he is desperate enough to pursue it.”

“Fair enough,” Dick said. “Tell him I said hi.”

Kaldur nodded. “How are you?”

“I've had worse,” Dick replied. Conner made a show of rolling his eyes. “I'm stuck in this sling for a while and I'll probably need more surgery so I don't get stabbed in the vitals by a stray piece of bone or whatever, but it's something I can some back from. It's more of an inconvenience than anything. I miss kicking people in the face.”

“And we miss watching you do it,” said Raquel.

“Is Bruce letting any magic-users near you?” asked Zatanna. “Maybe we can speed up the healing process.”

“Ask Bruce after the trial,” Dick replied. “For now, it's better to let things run their course. I could use more sympathy points with the jury.”

Artemis snorted. “Considering what happened with the last jury...”

“They're staying under lock and key this time around,” Dick said. “No one is allowed to see them without supervision approved by both the prosecution and defence.”

“Are you still testifying?” asked Zatanna.

“I am. They wanna stop me? They should hire a better assassin.”

“Maybe you should wear a bulletproof vest,” said Artemis.

“I think the commissioner is making some arrangements.”

“And the DA's making sure we can use the back entrance next time,” Wally added. “It's practically an obstacle course out back. A sniper's gonna have a bad time.”

“Unless they're Deadshot or Deathstroke,” Conner pointed out.

“I don't think these guys have the resources for that anymore,” said Dick. “They probably wasted what hadn't been seized by the police on bribing the last jury and hiring that assassin.”

“Batman's approached us to act as extra security next time you're called in,” said Raquel.

“The police commissioner is providing a security detail for you,” Kaldur added. “We are hoping to have Raquel and M'gann join them. The rest of us will be stationed inside and around the courthouse.”

Dick had been aggressively refusing to worry about what would happen the next time he went in, but hearing that was a relief all the same. “Is it bad I want something to happen just so you guys won't get bored?”

“In this case, I believe we could all use some boredom,” said Kaldur.

“Okay, I take it back. Boredom for everyone. I hope you're happy.”

“Happier than any of us have been since this whole mess began,” said Artemis.

* * *

Dick had to take less medication the day of the cross-examination. It meant he could focus better, but he was irretrievably cranky. Still, better cranky than terrified.

Every pothole on the drive there brought little blooms of pain, not enough to warrant treatment, but certainly enough to send his mood plummeting even further south. Wally let him squeeze his hand, which helped a little.

The security detail put together by Gordon was waiting in the carpark behind the building. Dick could pick out Raquel—Rocket—quite easily; he needed a little longer to spot Miss Martian, who had changed her complexion but kept her basic features the same.

“ **Over here,”** she prompted.

“ **You might not want to linger in my head,”** Dick warned her. **“Not the nicest place to be. Watch yourself if you're reading other minds in the area, too, for your own sake.”**

“ **I'll be careful. Let's get you inside.”**

Bruce and Alfred helped Dick out of the car. There was no time to re-orient himself to the change in altitude, so it was all he could do to keep breathing until they got inside. He leaned against the wall by the door for a second, closing his eyes.

Heels clicked on the hard floors, signalling Van Dorn's arrival. “Any trouble?”

“None,” Bruce replied. “Did you need more time, Dick?”

Dick opened his eyes. “No. I'm good.” At least his head had stopped feeling like a ten-ton weight. “I wouldn't mind sitting down for a bit before I'm called in.”

“You can sit in the waiting area,” said Van Dorn, leading the group deeper into the building. Most of the security detail waited outside the room in question. Miss Martian and Rocket, plus another officer, joined Dick and Wally inside while everyone else headed into the courtroom.

Dick sat on the couch and just. Breathed. He could do this. They were afraid of him. They'd already done everything they could to stop him getting back on the stand. They had no cards left, as far as he was concerned. Their attorney could say anything in that courtroom and it wouldn't matter, because he'd survived far worse already.

Now, he just had to hold onto these thoughts when he got into the courtroom itself.

Miss Martian carefully poked into Dick's head. **“No one's reporting any trouble so far. I figured you wouldn't want to get linked up to everyone right now.”**

“ **Thanks. I'll let you know when I'm ready for the link afterwards.”** Dick wanted to be kept abreast of the situation, just not when he needed to focus on the cross-examination.

Wally pressed a hand between Dick's shoulder blades. “How are we doing?”

“Better than last time,” Dick replied. He took a deep breath. “Getting my head in the game. Don't get mad if I don't talk for a bit.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

All too soon, it seemed, an attendant arrived to bring Dick into the courtroom. He took a moment for his head to stop hating him once he stood, and then followed her inside.

The room was silent, save for the occasional shuffling of feet and papers. Climbing the step up to the witness stand caused the stitches to pull a little, but it was tolerable. Dick carefully set himself in the chair and took the usual oaths and housekeeping questions.

Skinner was staring at him from the defence side of the room. Probably trying to intimidate him. As if. Dick kept his focus on the defence attorney as the man asked loaded question after loaded question. Some of them were easy enough, if frustrating, being that they echoed what his predecessor had asked in the previous trial. But he went further in some cases, and had a little more to work with in terms of Dick's age.

“You're sixteen now, yes?”

“I wasn't at the time the crimes were committed, but yes,” Dick replied.

“Just a _yes_ will suffice.” This attorney, Powell, had a set of reading glasses that never seemed to make it onto his face. He just liked gesturing with them. “Now, one of my clients, Luke here, is of particular concern in terms of your accusations.”

“I'm not accusing him of statutory, sir,” Dick made sure to point out.

“He is roughly the same age as your own boyfriend, isn't he?”

“I'm not having sex with Wally.”

“I'm not looking for your life story. I'm looking for a simple _yes_ or _no_.”

Dick was developing a headache.

“Now, the reason I bring this boy up, of course, is to point out that you have a proven attraction to men.” Powell was pacing a little now, gesticulating with his glasses. “I have been informed you had a physical reaction to acts you are claiming were not consensual with Luke?”

“Objection, Your Honour,” said Van Dorn. “Using a physiological reaction to stimuli as evidence of consent is scientifically inaccurate and misleading.”

“Sustained,” said the judge. Suck it, Powell.

“I also laugh when people tickle me,” Dick said. “That doesn't mean I like it.”

“The question of your relationship with Mr West remains, Mr Grayson,” said Powell.

“I've already said we haven't had sex,” Dick replied.

“You seem awfully close. Did you not share a bathroom after you testified for the prosecution?”

“I was throwing up, not peeing,” Dick replied acidly.

“His minder that day can attest to that,” Van Dorn added.

“The prosecution will refrain from speaking out of turn.”

“Well, she's not wrong,” Dick said. “I happened to be quite anxious that day. I wonder why?”

“And yet you're not now,” said Powell.

“I got shot on the steps of the courthouse,” Dick said. “I survived. What's gonna come at me next? Ninja assassins? It's been done before.” He deliberately kept any accusations out of his statement; the last thing the prosecution needed was to have Dick's testimony thrown out for making accusations that hadn't been brought to court yet.

“You were _a_ _llegedly_ shot,” said Powell.

“Wanna see the stitches?”

“This is irrelevant,” said the judge. “We are hear to discuss a series of rape accusations, not a shooting.”

Powell peered at his papers through the glasses in his hand. “There is another matter my predecessor failed to mention in his notes. You were absent for two years recently.”

“It's not a secret,” Dick replied. He was not looking forward to whatever Powell was going to do next.

“You claim amnesia?”

“Part of it has come back to me recently,” Dick said.

“How convenient. Did you miraculously remember the _reason_ you disappeared? Did you run away from home? Can we trust the testimony of an amnesiac or, worse, a troubled teenager who can't handle the oh-so-difficult responsibilities of being a rich man's son?”

“I don't remember that, no,” Dick admitted. “But I do know where I ended up. So does your predecessor. Remember the child pornography footage confiscated from him?” So it had come to this.

“The prosecution has permission to show the footage,” said Van Dorn. “After the witness has left the room.”

“I don't remember the details, but somehow I ended up with Smith and his friends,” Dick said. “It's fortunate there's camera footage, really, because there's no way else I can get justice for what they did to me back then.”

Powell scoffed. “We have already dismissed the footage as a forgery.”

Van Dorn had barely moved, but suddenly she took on the appearance of a circling vulture. “ _Have_ you? You bring your experts and I'll bring mine, and we'll see who the jury believes. In the meantime, do you have any more questions for my witness that are actually relevant to the crimes in question?”

“No,” said Powell; he'd already exhausted his predecessor's arguments before he'd gotten stuck on Dick's absence. “The defence rests, Your Honour.”

* * *

Dick didn't throw up afterwards, but it was a close thing. Miss Martian hooked his mind back up to the team once he gave her the go-ahead.

“ **You did great,”** she said.

“ **Are you okay?”** asked Artemis.

“ **I need a nap,”** Dick replied, **“but it wasn't as bad as last time.”**

“ **We will see you safely off,”** said Aqualad.

“ **Thanks, guys.”** Dick climbed into the car with Wally's help. He couldn't wait to get home and take a proper dose of his medication. Breathing was beginning to hurt.

Wally laughed openly as they drove out of the parking lot. “Wow. I heard Powell got his ass handed to him.”

“He should've known better,” Dick said.

“I guess his buddies weren't as open with him as they should've been.” Wally threw his head back, sighing to calm down. “You think he knew you were in the footage? And that Skinner was in it?”

“Apparently not,” Dick replied. “He would've had access to all the prosecution's evidence. I guess his clients didn't tell him he should be concerned.”

“Either way, he fucked _up_.”

“We cannot rely on that happening again,” Bruce said from the front seat. “Wally, be on your guard when you take the stand. Powell will want to make up for his mistake.”

“I won't give him an inch,” Wally promised.

“Good.” The fact Bruce left it there rather than threatening him further spoke volumes about how much he had chosen to trust Wally.

“Did you miss much at school today?” Dick asked Wally.

“Not really,” Wally replied. “Barry and Iris went in and explained everything and Van Dorn even wrote me a note. I had an essay due but I just handed it in a day early. No biggie.”

“Once you've testified, that's it for days off, okay?”

Wally kissed Dick's forehead. “Okay. You worry too much.”

“You don't worry enough, considering you're a freaking _senior_.”

They stopped by Jason's school to pick him up.

“How was it?” Jason asked, throwing Wally his schoolbag.

“Not too bad,” Dick replied. “The defence attorney slipped up. It was amazing.”

“Damn.” Jason slid into the car and clicked his seatbelt into place. “I wish I'd been there to see that.”

“I had to make do with second-hand accounts from the team,” Wally said. “M'gann nearly pissed herself.”

“Glad the whole thing didn't upset her too much,” said Dick. Maybe it came with being a telepath, but M'gann could be incredibly sensitive at times. One of those people who was just too sweet for this world.

“She'll need a hug or three,” Wally said. “Then again, don't we all?”

“Wait until I'm medicated,” Dick said, “then hug away.”

Alfred and Bruce indulged the three in some fast food on the way home. Dick picked at Wally's fries and stole a piece of Jason's fried chicken. He felt a little sick by the time they got inside the manor, but he was going to pop his pills and lie down anyway so he didn't pay it much mind.

Dick dozed in bed while Wally studied some more. That seemed to be all he had time for lately. Jason joined them with his homework for a while. Dick caught snatches of conversation during brief periods of wakefulness.

“Yeah, I've got time. Chem's easy. It'll only take me a sec.”

“Just you wait. I think the teacher wrote this wrong.”

“Let me see.” A rustle of papers. Wally chuckled. “No wonder your answers are wrong. He's written out the wrong formula. Hang on.” Some scratching, more papers rustling. “There. Use that.”

“Has this guy ever heard of proofreading?” Jason complained.

Later:

“How did you finish first? There's no way you had less homework than me. You're a senior.”

“Most of it was reading, to be fair.” A dull _thud_.

“Hope there wasn't anything important in that.”

“Just papers. It's fine.” The bed shifted and the pillow next to Dick moved. “I'm gonna take a leaf out of Dick's book and sleep for five years now.”

“Boring.”

“Say something interesting and maybe I'll stay awake.”

“I was wondering about the trial today.”

“Hm?”

“Dick... was he... I mean, he seems okay, considering, but...”

“He wasn't too bad,” Wally replied. “Still a bit anxious, but he was way more nervous on his first date with Zatanna years back. I hate to say it, but getting shot actually helped things.”

“He's gone on about it enough by now,” Jason muttered. “Of course the thing that scares the shit out of the rest of us just makes him chill out. Fucking weirdo. I mean, I get it. I'd probably be the same. But still. Weirdo.”

“I'm just glad he's done testifying.”

“You're next.”

“I'm not too worried. Dick had the harder job.”

“Yeah, but you know Powell's gonna try and use you to make Luke look better.”

“I'll make sure he fails. I mean, Dick and I aren't—you know.”

“I'm not sure I want to continue this conversation.”

“Sorry. I just... that side of things... well, I'm leaving the ball in Dick's court.”

“Good. I just started to like you.”

“ _Aw_ _w_ , I like you too, buddy.”

“We will never speak of this again.”

“Scout's honour.”

“You're not a Boy Scout.”

“Neither are you. Just shake my hand already.”

“ _Ugh_.” The bed shifted. “There. Now I'm leaving before you embarrass the both of us.”

Dick made sure Jason had definitely left before he opened his eyes. Wally was lying on his back, holding his phone above his own face.

“How much did you hear?” Wally asked as he typed out a text message.

“Everything about the trial,” Dick replied. He wanted to roll on his side to face Wally, but the sling and all the stitches made that impossible.

“Of course you did,” Wally muttered, pressing the _send_ button. “Barbara's been texting me, since she couldn't get a hold of you. Told her about the trial. She says hi.” He set his phone on the nightstand. “Wanna hear something amazing?”

“Sure.”

“I _finished my homework_.”

“Yeah, I heard. Nice.”

“You sound so enthusiastic.”

“I just woke up. Leave me alone.”

Wally pinched his cheek. “Aww.”

Dick rolled his eyes and went through the slow process of sitting up with only one free arm and a chest full of stitches. Wally repositioned his pillows for him and fetched him a glass of water.

“Good boyfriend,” Dick said with his mouth against the rim of glass. Wally set it on the nightstand for him when he'd had enough.

“I aim to please.”

Dick pulled the bedcovers closer to his waist. “It's going to be weird when the trial's over.”

“So weird,” Wally agreed. He climbed to the other side of the bed; they had their preferred sides, but Dick's injury kept disrupting it. “I can't even imagine it.” He slid his legs under the covers. “I feel like it's gone on so long that it's almost normal. Which sucks.”

“I have no idea how I'm going to feel,” Dick admitted. “Like... I can't even envision the day after when I'll wake up without it hanging over me the way it is now. Let's be honest. I'll probably panic.”

Wally took his hand, taking his time lacing their fingers together, before he came up with a response. “It could happen. We'll get you through it.”

“I know.” Dick had to breathe... take a moment to let the gratitude wash over him. There were so many people around him, giving up so much to make this whole process as bearable as it could be. “I'm so glad you're here.”

Wally dropped a kiss on each of Dick's knuckles. “Wouldn't dream of being anywhere else.”

“Sap.”

“And proud.”

Dick leaned into Wally's side, resting his head on the boy's shoulder. “I miss us.”

Maybe Wally had been thinking the same thing, because he instantly caught Dick's meaning. “We'll get back to the way we used to be,” he promised. “It'll just take time and patience.”

“Lend me some?”

Wally kissed the top of his head. “As much as you need.”

Dick's chest felt full and warm, in the only way it could without hurting. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Stop one-upping me and kiss me already.”

And Wally did, the two of them shifting carefully to accommodate Dick's injury, Wally setting Dick between his legs so he could support him with a raised knee at Dick's back. Dick was twisted oddly, pressing the front of his good shoulder to Wally's chest, but they were close and that was more important, especially for someone who could turn himself into a pretzel even on a bad day.

They didn't get to do this often. There was always something else to talk about or think about or, generally, worry about. Dick wanted to do this every day for the rest of his life... just lying in bed and kissing without giving a damn.

Wally dipped him back, just a little, and Dick was content to let himself fall limp in Wally's arms. He wouldn't drop him. He wouldn't dare.

Those little _I love yous_ spoken aloud easily translated into kisses. A special language they shared only with each other. It was one thing to tell someone you loved them. It was another thing entirely to write that love onto their skin. Dick stamped it on Wally's cheeks, nose, forehead, lips. Wally did the same to him.

Pure, gentle, soft. Everything Dick needed and Wally gave without a second thought.

They couldn't shake off that closeness for the rest of the day, always touching in some way. Hand to hand. Knee to knee. Chest to chest whenever they could. Even Jason didn't dare tease them.

It helped in the night, when the dreams came with their claws and their voices and threatened to tear Dick to shreds. He clung to Wally, who stroked his back and spoke softly to him and drowned it all out. Sometimes Dick couldn't sleep after the nightmares, whether it was deliberate out of fear or completely due to restlessness, but that wasn't the case tonight.

Tonight, he slept.


	41. Verdict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally takes the witness stand as the trial draws closer to its conclusion. Dick takes comfort from the team, and ponders what life will be like without the trial shadowing his waking thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: discussion of the sexual assault of minors, victim-blaming rhetoric, pedophile rhetoric, suicide mention.

“So it doesn't bother you that your boyfriend clearly enjoyed the attentions of another boy your age?” Powell was in full douchebag mode today. Dick wanted to punch something. Fortunately, Wally had kept his cool so far.

“Have you ever met a teenage boy?” Wally replied. “All it takes is a stiff breeze and we're hard. It doesn't prove anything.”

“I already pointed out the flaws in the defence's argument during Mr Grayson's testimony,” said Van Dorn. “The claim that Mr Grayson experienced a physical response to Luke's assault is both hearsay and irrelevant to the charges.”

“The defence will stay on topic,” said the judge.

Powell barely acknowledged the judge before speaking again. “Mr Grayson claimed the two of you had not engaged in intercourse. Is this correct?”

“Yes,” Wally replied. “Dick only reached the age of the consent recently, and we've had bigger things to worry about.”

“Does this frustrate you?”

“No.”

“Come now,” said Powell. Dick couldn't see his face, but he could hear the smirk. “A red-blooded eighteen-year-old boy like yourself?”

Wally shrugged. “Going without sex isn't going to kill me. I'm not dating him to get in his pants.”

“I'm sure most men in this room will agree that even the saintliest of men has needs.”

Bile scorched Dick's throat, forcing him to swallow.

“That's what masturbation is for,” Wally said blandly. “If you're trying to make me sympathise with a rapist, you're gonna have a bad time.”

“I am here to contest the validity of such a label,” said Powell. “So you have never—”

“Objection,” Van Dorn said, with a distinct edge of tiredness. “The defence is harassing the witness.”

“Sustained,” said the judge. “The defence will move on to their next line of questioning.”

Wally had kept the discomfort from his face thus far, but a little shift in his position told Dick everything he needed to know.

“Very well,” said Powell. He didn't have much more to question Wally about. He'd already rehashed everything he'd started with Dick. The judge was getting testy and Van Dorn was about as close to foaming at the mouth as she could get. Even the jury was beginning to show signs of discomfort. In Powell's efforts to make up for his mistake in Dick's cross-examination, he'd only made things worse for his clients. Dick could let himself be happy about it later, right after he stopped wanting to be sick.

He, Bruce and Alfred reunited with Wally during the recess that followed. Wally proceeded to rest his face on Dick's shoulder and groan loudly for a solid minute.

“I want to tear off my own skin,” he grumbled, once he was done.

“You and everyone else,” Dick replied. “I feel like I need to burn my skin off in the shower. _And I can't even stand showers_.”

“Powell's getting desperate,” Bruce said. “Van Dorn put him in his place during the video showing the other day.”

Dick didn't really want to think about the fact a room full of people had watched snippets of the footage from the first time he encountered these people. He understood why Bruce brought it up, though. The trial was slipping from Powell's fingers with every moment in that room.

Wally finally removed his face from Dick's shoulder. “Can we get out of here? I'm scared he'll find me and ask more questions about my sex life like the creepy old fuck he is.”

A few of Gordon's hand-picked officers saw them safely to the car. Wally ate his feelings back at the manor; Alfred had prepared several platters of sandwiches and a few baked pasta dishes. Dick felt a little ill looking at it all, so he opted for picking at a dry bowl of Crocky Crunch that Alfred had grudgingly provided. He didn't need to resort to it all the time, but it kept him from going completely without food on the bad days.

Wally didn't talk until he'd demolished all the sandwiches and most of the pasta by himself. Dick was still going with the cereal; food was completely unappealing on days like this.

“How are you holding up?” Wally asked him, passing his emptied plate to Alfred.

“Could be worse,” Dick replied. He still felt a distinct need to wash, but he wanted to be with Wally more in this moment.

“What Powell said was fucked.” Wally stole a single sugary flake of cereal. “And wrong, by the way. I'm totally cool with the no sex thing.”

“I know you are,” Dick replied.

“Good. I got worried.”

“I'm done letting people like that influence me.” Dick drilled a circle into the middle of his cereal with a finger. “The last time I let someone get in my head with that shit...” He'd almost killed himself.

“Yeah.” Wally's expression darkened, and his glare could've burned a hole in the table if he were that kind of metahuman. “You're a better person on your worst days than people like him and Skinner are on their best.”

Dick snorted. “Does that include my whole murdering people thing?”

“Yes.”

Well. Dick probably should've expected that response.

Wally went on, “Like, killing is bad and all, but if there was such a thing as a _good_ reason to kill someone...”

Dick couldn't really argue. “Point taken.”

He kept trying to eat his cereal for a little while longer. Wally held his hand. That was about as much contact as Dick could stand today.

* * *

Dick stayed away from the rest of the trial, opting instead to visit the team during the day. Most of the others were at school, but Kaldur was usually around and members of the League dropped by regularly, including Roy on occasion.

“Long time no see, Roy,” Dick said, abandoning his chess game with Kaldur. He was losing anway.

“The hell'd you do to yourself this time?” Roy asked, prodding the air mere inches from the sling Dick was wearing.

“Sniper on the steps of the courthouse.”

“Fuck. They catch the guy?”

“Yeah, it happened really fast.”

“And you _still_ testified after that?”

“Duh. It's like you don't even know me.”

Roy snorted. “Just checking.”

Kaldur rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “It is good to see you, Roy.”

Roy sobered. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You too.”

“Did you find anything?” Dick asked him, even though he already suspected he had the answer.

“No.” Roy stalked off to the living area before Dick or Kaldur could catch his expression. By they time they joined him, he'd found the bread and some ham that needed to be used anyway.

“Are you staying long?” Kaldur asked, helping Dick onto one of the bench stools. Dick's wound wasn't bothering him too much anymore, but it never hurt to be careful.

Roy shrugged, eyes down and focused on buttering two slices of bread. “Depends. I don't feel like talking to Ollie.”

“We'll protect you,” Dick promised. “I could get his attention instead. No one can resist me.”

“Yeah, because you're wounded and everyone feels sorry for you.”

“As they should.”

“Damn, _I_ feel sorry for you.” Roy slapped some ham on the bread. “I feel like I should make you a sandwich or something.”

“Don't worry about it. Food is... weird for me.”

Roy, apparently, knew better than to ask for details. Or maybe Kaldur shaking his head had something to do with that.

They sat in front of the TV, watching some mindless daytime soap while Roy ate his sandwich.

“I heard Wally got called in to testify,” he said.

“You heard about that but you didn't hear about me getting shot?”

Roy shrugged. “Maybe I heard about a shooting but just assumed it was business as usual in Gotham.”

“Bite me, Harper.”

“No way. You'd bite back.” Roy ripped off the remaining crust with his teeth.

“The defence attorney thought he could make a point about Dick and Wally's relationship,” Kaldur explained.

“He failed,” Dick added. “Badly. It would've been funny if I hadn't been fighting the urge to claw my own skin off at the sheer creepiness of what he was saying about us.”

Dick's watch beeped. School was out.

He got up. “I should get home. Don't wanna risk Batgirl seeing me with the exact same injury as Dick Grayson.”

“She's probably figured you out already,” Roy said.

“I'll deal with it once the trial's over.” Dick did not have the energy to spare on Barbara yet. “Anyway, tell everyone I said hi.”

Kaldur walked Dick to the zeta tube. “Let us know when you know the verdict.”

“I will,” Dick promised. “Thanks for hanging out. You're a... calming influence.”

Kaldur smiled. “I try. Go home. Eat something, if possible.”

Dick saluted him. “Yes, sir.” Alfred was making pizza tonight. Maybe Dick could eat a slice or two. He missed pizza.

Kaldur's smile turned into a grin, and he waved him off.

* * *

The only trial day Dick chose to attend was the verdict. Wally had begged to come along, but they had agreed he was done taking time off school for Dick's sake.

Wally kept texting him complaints throughout the day. Dick read through them after court had broken for a recess to let the jury come up with a decision. No one expected them to take long.

“No one has tampered with the jury this time,” Bruce promised as they sat in a quiet corner of a reception area.

“Unless someone got to them before they were sequestered,” Dick replied, scrolling through the deluge of messages Wally had sent. “The defence had a hand in picking the jury.”

“We've kept an eye on them from the moment they were up for consideration,” said Bruce. “They're as safe from interference as we could make them.”

Dick couldn't bring himself to be optimistic. Wally sent another message, a photo this time. One of those _hang in there_ posters with a cat hanging from a branch.

Dick texted back: “ _Thanks. I'm freaking out._ ”

“ _I can still get over there._ ”

“ _NO._ ”

“ _Fine, fine. Sending happy thoughts. Love you_.”

“Dork,” Dick muttered, sending a text that returned the sentiment. It would've been quicker if the sling wasn't in the way. He barely even needed it anymore, but Van Dorn suggested leaving it on in public until the trial was over so the defence couldn't claim he'd only been pretending to be injured.

“Tell him to stop texting in class,” Bruce said.

“It's recess.”

“Was it also recess the first time he messaged you?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll tell him.” Dick sent the message.

Wally sent back an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response.

They returned to the courtroom shortly afterwards. Dick was not prepared. Van Dorn squeezed his shoulder as she passed by on the way to her table.

Dick could barely tolerate sitting on the pew. He couldn't stop his leg from jiggling up at down. After nudging him twice, Bruce gave up trying to make him.

The jury filed in. Dick couldn't breathe.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge.

A juror stood up. Dick squeezed Bruce's hand.

“Yes, your honour.”

Bruce squeezed back.

The judge gave the juror the go-ahead. Dick was still squeezing Bruce's hand, harder now.

The juror raised his voice for the sake of the room. “This jury finds the defendants—”

Everyone took a breath.

“—guilty.”

For second, no one moved. Then, Van Dorn snapped her files shut. The room seemed to wake in response. People chattered. Powell kicked his table.

“We will commence the sentencing tomorrow morning,” said the judge, smacking his gavel.

Police officers hefted Skinner and his friends from their seats. Luke was crying.

Dick crumbled forward, hands pressed to his face, and then he was crying too.

“You'll pay for this, Richard,” someone yelled. Skinner.

“I'll remember those words for tomorrow's sentencing,” said Van Dorn. “We wouldn't want the scribes to forget Mr Smith threatened a key witness, would we?”

Bruce tucked Dick against his side. “The police are taking them out now.”

Amidst the shuffling and chattering of the crowd getting up to leave, Van Dorn's heels clicked closer. “I'll make sure they are sentenced as harshly as the law will allow,” she said. “Luke, of course, will be sent to a psychiatric facility.”

Dick couldn't stop crying, but he could nod in response.

“Thank you, Janet,” Bruce said.

“All in a day's work,” said Van Dorn. “Find me before you leave, if Dick is up to it.” Her heels clicked away. It wasn't the first time she'd used his nickname rather than his legal name, but certainly the first time Dick felt almost... emotional about it. Probably because he was emotional anyway.

The courtroom had more or less cleared out before Dick had composed himself. Bruce kept a steady hand on his shoulder as they worked their way through the crowd. Van Dorn was speaking with Powell. Judging from her tense body language, it wasn't exactly by choice.

“Of course,” Powell was saying. “It's the nature of the job, Janet. I have to play every angle I can find.”

“I'd avoid speaking with the witnesses now the trial is finished,” Van Dorn replied. “It may not have been personal for you, but it certainly was for them.” She glanced in Dick and Bruce's direction. “You'll have to excuse me.” She left Powell behind, walking about as quickly as Dick had ever seen her to reach them.

“Enlightening conversation?” asked Bruce.

“Eugene should stick to mob trials,” Van Dorn said, her mouth turning down with disgust.

“Ah, Richard.” Powell had followed her over. “Janet was just telling me how the cross-examinations went down from the witnesses' end.”

“I heard,” Dick replied, making a token effort to keep the disdain out of his voice.

“Ah, no hard feelings, kid. It's the nature of the defence, you know?”

“Yeah, you might want to stick to mob trials if you don't want people to start thinking you're a pedophile yourself,” Dick replied. “Now, we were having a _private_ conversation with the DA...”

“Right. Yes.” Powell went to pat Dick's shoulder, thought better of it and left.

“If I didn't have a professional reputation to maintain,” said Van Dorn, “I would have told him the same thing myself.”

“Happy to be of service.”

Van Dorn allowed a small smile. “Go home. Get some rest. I imagine this whole ordeal has been quite draining.”

“Just a little.” Dick stepped into Van Dorn's space, and hugged her with his one free arm. “Thank you.” And now he was tearing up again. Damn it.

Van Dorn returned the hug, a little stiffly, and patted his back. “You're welcome. Thank you for trusting me to get this right.”

Dick laughed wetly, stepping back. “Sorry about... you know.” He gestured to his face. “Apparently this is a thing.”

“You've earned the right to cry a little,” Van Dorn said warmly. She turned to Bruce. “Look after him. Give him ice cream for dinner, whatever he wants.”

Bruce chuckled, tucking Dick back against his side. “Will do, Janet. Thank you again.”

They headed out the back way to the car, which Alfred had already started. Bruce stuck with Dick in the backseat. Sometimes Dick hated being touched, but today it was more than welcome. Especially since he still _couldn't stop crying_.

“I'm surprised you haven't messaged Wally yet,” Bruce said as Alfred drove out of the carpark.

Dick snorted, futilely wiping his eyes. “I can't see my screen, B. Besides, weren't you just complaining about him texting in class?” His voice wobbled, but was steady enough to get words out at least.

“I'm surprised you listened to me,” Bruce teased.

“Maybe I'd listen more if you said anything worth listening to.”

“Ouch.”

“Can't have upset you too much. Which of us is crying here?” Honestly, it was getting ridiculous. Dick had to laugh at himself or he'd probably start crying harder. Christ. He buried his face in Bruce's shirt, which he'd already ruined anyway. Bruce patted his back.

“You're okay,” Bruce said. “Just get it out of your system.”

It stopped by the time they got home and the sling came off. He felt oddly adrift, floating in an ocean mere moments before he would realise that he was drowning. Or like the eye of a hurricane. Either way, he wasn't done breaking down.

Bruce and Alfred noticed, apparently, because they roped him into making snacks with them in the kitchen. Well, Bruce watched Dick and Alfred make the snacks. He was banned from cooking again.

“What'd you do this time?” Dick asked him, juicing a lemon by hand while Alfred chopped vegetables for a dipping platter. He could feel his chest protesting a little, but the freedom of having both hands again made it worth it.

“Toast,” Bruce replied from a stool on the other side of the counter. “It wasn't that bad.”

“The smoke alarm disagrees, sir,” Alfred said, tipping his cutting board of carrot sticks onto the platter. He set a grater on another board with a cucumber. He'd put Dick in charge of a tzatziki dip. It kept him busy, which was obviously the aim. Dick wasn't bothered. He needed a break from crying.

Dick set the juice aside and got to grating. “Don't feel bad, B. Maybe the smoke alarm was trying to cheer you on.”

“ _See_ , Alfred?”

“Yes, sir.” Alfred dug out from broccoli from the fridge. “Wash up and make yourself useful if you must.”

* * *

Wally arrived before Alfred brought Jason home. He skidded into the kitchen, where Dick and Bruce were picking at the platter they'd made.

“I stayed off the internet,” Wally said. “I wanted to hear it from you.”

Dick swallowed a piece of carrot. “We won.”

“Oh, thank God.” Wally zipped closer, stopping short of actually touching Dick. “Are you all right? When you didn't message me again—”

“I was crying too much to see the screen,” Dick replied, swiping a piece of broccoli through the dip.

“Oh.”

“Don't hug me. I'll start again.”

“Okay.” Wally leaned against the counter and grabbed a handful of crackers. “Are you planning to subsist on _rabbit food_? Gross.”

Dick shoved a carrot in Wally's mouth. “Oh no. What have I done?”

Bruce shook his head at them. “I'll be downstairs. Don't kill each other.”

Before he could move, Jason was bursting into the kitchen, his schoolbag barely hanging on his shoulder. “Alfred won't tell me what happened!”

“Van Dorn kicked ass,” Dick replied. “They're going to jail.”

Jason visibly deflated with relief, his bag sliding off his shoulder. Alfred caught it before it hit the floor.

“Okay. Cool.” Jason gave an awkward thumbs-up. “Where's your sling?”

“Took it off as soon as I got home. Blessed freedom.”

“Right. Okay. Yeah.” Jason grabbed a piece of carrot and retreated from the kitchen. Emotions were weird. Dick wasn't feeling up to talking to him. It was on his to-do list for later, though, along with a lot of other things he'd had to put off.

“He'll be fine,” Bruce said. “Give him some time.”

Dick wasn't so sure time was all Jason needed, but he was starting to feel the toll the day had taken. Barring nightmares, he'd sleep well tonight.

Dick and Wally headed for Mount Justice once Wally's stomach was full enough to stop grumbling. Wally had called ahead to make sure Barbara wouldn't be there. Another thing Dick would have to deal with on another day.

The team, plus Roy, were waiting on the other side of the zeta trip.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to avoid the news these days?” Roy said.

“Says the guy who didn't know I got shot,” Dick replied.

“Shut up and tell us how it went already.”

“I can't do both of those things, Roy.”

Zatanna snickered at Roy's pinched expression. “Please say something before Roy bursts a blood vessel.”

“Or you could wait,” said Artemis. “I wanna see that.”

Kaldur put his hand on Roy's shoulder. “Everyone, please.”

“We got a guilty verdict,” Dick finally said.

M'gann burst several feet into the air. “That's wonderful news!”

The rest of the team were talking all at once. Dick couldn't pick anything out. He laughed, smiling too widely, his vision blurring a little. There was no point fighting it. He leaned into Wally, who was more than willing to hold him. M'gann joined in, gentle to avoid hurting him.

Dick ended up getting passed around the whole team for hugs, eventually beginning to cry in earnest into Conner's chest. Which must have terrified the guy at little.

It was a while before he could find his voice again. The first thing out of his mouth was an apology.

“No, that's okay,” Conner said. His face was frozen in his horrified expression, though, so the words didn't really stick.

“He does mean it,” M'gann said. “Conner, your face is stuck.”

“I scarred him for life,” Dick said, wiping his eyes for the umpteenth time today. “Anyway, I really am sorry. Cried all the way home from the courthouse. Bruce was really chill about it, surprisingly.”

“You get used to it after a while,” Wally supplied.

“I don't cry _that often_. Jeez.” Dick dug around in his pockets for a tissue, coming up empty. Raquel had some on hand, fortunately.

“Will you return to the team once you have healed?” Kaldur asked.

“That's the plan.”

“We've missed you,” said M'gann.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” said Zatanna. “It wasn't your fault.”

“I know. Still sorry. I'd hoped to be back months ago, but shit just had to keep happening.” Dick hadn't been out on patrol for so long. As soon as he could punch without hurting himself, he'd throw himself back into training. Maybe he could get started on building up his leg strength in the meantime.

“Zatanna and I worked out a new trick,” said Raquel. “We'll have to show you next time you come to training.”

“Magic and tech? Sounds like Batman's worst nightmare. I love it already.”

“It's pretty cool,” said Zatanna.

“Batgirl's coming soon for training,” Artemis interrupted. “So you better suit up or get out of here.”

“I'll go,” Dick said. “I'm working on a plan to deal with the secret identity thing, but, well. Not today.”

Wally took his hand. “All right. Let's get outta here.”

“You should stay.”

Wally leaned in, voice pitching lower. Softer. “I'd rather make sure you're okay.”

Dick was proud that he didn't blush at the intimate tone of Wally's voice. “I'll be fine. Everyone else is home. Go get your ass kicked.”

Wally let his hand go. “I'll join you as soon as training's over, okay?”

Dick headed for the zeta tube. “Yeah, okay. Don't run out too fast, though. Don't wanna trip over your own feet again.”

“I haven't done that in ages!” Wally protested as Dick laughed his way through programming the tube for the batcave.

* * *

Dick spent most of that night in and out of tears. It was like the verdict had released a sprinkler valve or something. At least he slept well once it was all over.

Bruce attended the sentencing alone. Dick still felt a little shaky. It was a relief to spend the day running errands and cleaning the manor with Alfred. It kept him focused on the here and now.

Bruce came straight home from the courthouse with news. “Van Dorn got her way. All members of Skinner's organisation received very long sentences. A few, like Skinner, who were proven to be involved in the murders received life without parole. Luke is being admitted to a psychiatric facility as we expected.”

Dick nodded as he continued wiping down the kitchen bench. Given the circumstances, he hadn't expected the judge to go easy.

“We also have a precedent of what to do with any clients who weren't caught in the GCPD's initial sweep,” Bruce continued. “Most of the clients only received around seven years but will be eligible for parole before then.”

“That's pretty normal,” Dick replied. At least they were getting something.

“The GCPD has had people combing through the organisation's encrypted files,” Bruce said. “Apparently it's quite a mammoth task. Any previously undetected clients they find will be charged accordingly. Batman has a copy of the files.”

Alfred plucked the sponge from Dick's hand. “Go wash up for lunch, sir.”

Dick took his time. He had known some clients slipped through the cracks. He hadn't been able to find evidence even for everyone he'd dealt with directly. The reminder, however, was unpleasant. There was nothing stopping those people from finding someone else to victimise. There were plenty of vulnerable children out there.

His phone rang while he was drying his hands. Wally. Dick answered.

“Yeah?”

“Is Bruce back yet?”

“Yeah. Apparently everyone got what they deserved. Skinner got life.”

“You sound tired.”

Dick rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Just got a reminder that we didn't catch every client. The GCPD has Skinner's files, but apparently it's too big a task to knock over quickly.”

“That sucks. But Bruce and the police are keeping an eye out, yeah? If they try anything, it's gonna be harder to stay under the radar now that everyone's on alert.”

“I hope so.” This conversation wasn't helping Dick feel any less tired. “Go have lunch. I'll be okay.”

“I'll come by after school,” Wally promised. “Try not to let it get to you if you can.”

“I'll make Bruce help me train. That'll keep my mind off things.”

“ _Don't hurt yourself_.”

“It'll be fine. Every day is leg day until I'm healed enough.”

Wally snorted. “All right. Take care. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Dick tried not to dwell on the clients. Winning the trial had been a victory. Bruce agreed to help him train after lunch. Dick's legs felt like jelly once they were done, but at least he'd earned the right to be exhausted this time. That made a world of difference.

The following week was possibly the least stressful he'd had in months, if not _years_. Dick made the occasional trip into Mount Justice to visit the team and let Zatanna boost his healing. Bruce had balked at any attempt to erase the injury entirely, so this was their compromise. He was still avoiding Barbara, aside from a short phone conversation as their civilian identities.

At the end of the week, he headed back to Mount Justice for his first therapy session since the verdict. He'd had some time to think things over, to switch his mindset from immediate survival to thinking about the future.

“It's still hard to imagine the future,” Dick admitted to Dinah during their session in her office.

“I can imagine,” Dinah replied.

“There's a lot of stuff I've been putting off so I could hold myself together for the trial.” Dick poked an old stain on the arm of the couch; Wally had spilled soda in here once. “Now I don't have that excuse anymore, it's...” He had to laugh or he'd probably start crying again. “It's just a mountain of crap. I've lost the ability to prioritise anything outside the context of the trial.”

“What's been worrying you the most?”

“Probably Jason and Barbara.” Dick had been meaning to speak with both of them for ages. “And I've been thinking about going to back to my room.”

“You could start with one of those,” Dinah suggested.

“I don't know if I feel up to any of that,” Dick admitted.

“You can always start planning what you want to say, so you're ready to go when you do.”

“I suppose.” Dick had to take a deep breath before the sheer enormity of everything he had to do overwhelmed him. “Then there's getting back in the field, obviously. That's not worrying me as much. And the League still doesn't know about the Red Hood.” That most definitely was worrying him. “And there's school. Am I going back to Gotham Academy after summer? I don't know. I probably will, being the stubborn ass that I am.”

“We have a little time to decide that last one,” Dinah said. “How's home-schooling going for you?”

“Better now,” Dick replied. “My focus still isn't what it used to be.”

“Be patient with yourself.”

“I'm trying.”

“And it's perfectly reasonable to leave the League situation a little longer. We'll need to plan how to go about that anyway. Bruce can help when the time comes.”

Dick was more than happy to put that on the backburner. “Okay.”

“Let's focus on the personal side of things,” Dinah suggested.

“I've been wondering what I should say to Barbara.”

“I seem to recall you were worried about her.”

Dick shrugged, a little sheepish. “Yeah. She's more independent than Jason and I are. The fact she's probably already figured out my identity aside, I just... I don't know. I feel like I should be the one to talk to her about the dangers of crimefighting in Gotham. And, look, I know she's got a better understanding than most people because of her dad, but...”

“You want her to see things from your perspective, too.”

“Yeah. I mean, I'm the one who died. So I've got a lot to say on the matter. Not to mention it's killing me—pun not intended, I swear—that I can't talk to her about a lot of things when she's one of my closest friends.”

“How are you thinking of going about this?”

“I need to tell her what happened to me and why, I guess. Everything. Including the Red Hood. Not sure if I want to tell her that right away, but the rest of the team knows about it, so...” Dick wasn't sure how she'd take it. Her dad was a cop. Vigilantism was one thing, but _killing people_?

“You've known her longer than I have,” Dinah said. “I'm sure whatever decision you make will be the right one.”

“And I don't know what to do about Jason.” The thought of him was exhausting. “We haven't really talked about it since the last time we argued. We were both too raw. But I don't blame him for what happened, and I need him to know that.”

“I haven't been able to get him to talk to me,” Dinah said, “but it's clear what happened to you has affected him severely.”

Dick nodded. “It might be easier now the trial's over. I'll think of something. Leave it with me.”

“And you said you wanted to go back to your room?” Dinah prodded, now that Dick had made it clear he was done talking about Jason.

“I don't know when,” Dick admitted. “It's just... I don't know. You ever had something big happen and then you don't go back there for a while and the place takes on a kind of... mystical quality?”

“You felt this way about Skinner's compound last year,” said Dinah.

“Yeah. Difference being, obviously, that my room is _my_ room. I want to take it back.”

“You could always take it slow,” said Dinah. “Start small.”

“Play knock and run with my own room. Got it.”

Dinah shook her head at him.

“I'm joking.”

“I figured.” Dinah's notepad was covered in writing. She turned over to a new page. “You don't have to do it alone, if you'd prefer someone with you.”

“Maybe. I'll think about it.” Dick wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to witness that particular reunion. Just in case it got messy.

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“One more thing, I guess.” Something had been in the back of Dick's mind for the past day or so. He hadn't told anyone about it yet. He wasn't sure how he felt about it himself. Or how Wally would take it. They'd talked about it before, but it had always been with the understanding that, if it did happen, it would be in the far-off future.

“We don't have to talk about it now if you're not comfortable,” Dinah assured him.

“I'm just not sure how I feel about it.” Dick took a breath. Here goes. “I've been thinking about sex. With Wally.” And his face was already going red. Great. “We've talked about it a bit before, but it was always quite... abstract.”

“And now it seems more realistic?”

“I guess. Haven't really thought too much about it since the trial.”

“Where are you at with it?”

“Trying to decide how much of it is me wanting to have sex with my boyfriend because I love him, and how much of it is wanting control over my own sexuality again.”

“That's a reasonable concern.” Dinah set her notepad aside; Dick was grateful she wasn't taking notes about this. “Maybe it's a good time to bring it up with Wally again. That might help you sort things out.”

“I will. Just wanted your opinion on how to go about... you know.”

“Obviously, you'll want to take things slow,” said Dinah. “You'll need to be very aware of how you're feeling and make sure you communicate with Wally. If you're even the slightest bit uncomfortable at any point, I'd suggest stopping immediately. Better safe than sorry.”

The old frustration was bubbling away inside him again. “All right.” He sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

“I know.” Dinah's voice was gentle. “Try to remember none of this is your fault.”

“Yeah...”

“I understand it's common for there to be sexual expectations in relationships,” Dinah said, returning to a more businesslike tone. Dick was grateful for that. “Even if it's not coming from within the relationship itself. Whatever anyone says, only you have a right to decide what you do with your own body and how much you decide to share with people.”

“Thanks, Dinah.” Dick felt his burning cheek. “Here's something I never thought I'd be sharing openly with an adult. Can you imagine if I'd tried to bring this up with _Bruce_?”

Dinah chuckled. “Thank you for trusting me. I'm willing to discuss this with you further at any point, as uncomfortable as it may be.”

“We'll see.” It wasn't his favourite topic, but Dinah had been professional about the whole thing.

“Talk things out with Wally.” Dinah got up, crossing to the door. “Remember to be patient with yourself. About everything.”

Dick had a lot to think about, but at least he had a roadmap to get things started. Training. His room. School. Jason. Barbara. And Wally.

Everything would happen in its own time. There was no need to rush.


	42. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is recovering, but sometimes it's easier to be physically strong than emotionally strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm this close to gagging at my own summary. Dear God.
> 
> Anyway, warnings: sex talk, implied sexual assault of minors, Dick's usual food issues. I think that's it. It's a pretty chill chapter, actually.

Dick's chest still twinged sometimes when he moved his arm too forcefully, which was an endless cause of irritation when he just wanted to get back to training. An attempt at using the punching bag had resulted in a day's worth of agony, every breath he took sending shocks of pain down his body.

Wally found him curled on his side in bed, trying not to move. “I'm confused,” he said, dropping his schoolbag on the floor.

“About?” Dick said through his teeth, cheek pressed to the pillow. This probably wasn't a great position to keep the pain at bay, but, by the time he'd realised, he was too committed to try moving.

“What your weird, scrunched-up face means. I'm not sure if you ate an entire lemon tree, or you've hurt yourself again.”

“Fuck off.”

“Guess that answers my question.” Wally sat carefully on the edge of the bed, but Dick hissed in pain anyway. “That bad, huh?”

“ _Don't move_.”

Wally, careful not to jostle the bed again, pressed his finger to Dick's jaw hinge, bunched up with tension as it was. “You know, you'll lose your teeth if you keep grinding them.”

“Didn't I tell you to fuck off?” Dick turned his head, just a touch, and opened his mouth threateningly in the direction of Wally's finger. Wally, instead of retreating, poked his nearest tooth.

“Tensing up like that's gonna make your pain worse,” he said, gesturing to the shape Dick's body had taken, like the letter _C_ if it were crushed by a trash compactor and crudely reassembled by someone who didn't know what the alphabet was.

“If you have a solution, spit it out.”

“You've still got some pain pills left, don't you?”

Dick hated using them. It felt like a defeat every time he did.

Wally sighed, getting up. Dick caught a pained noise before it left his mouth. Wally poked through the nightstand drawers until he found the pills.

“I have to sit up to take them,” Dick pointed out. “And I'm not doing that.”

“A few seconds' pain for hours of relief.” Wally grabbed an empty glass off the nightstand and filled it in the bathroom. “Do you need help?”

Dick fumbled to sit up a bit, the pain lancing from the wound. Wally caught him before he collapsed.

“I'll be gentle,” Wally promised. “Let me take your weight.”

Dick slumped into Wally's arms until he had him sitting upright, against the headboard. “ _I'll be gentle_ ,” he scoffed. “Sounds like you're screwing me, not helping me take drugs.”

Wally dumped a pill into Dick's hand. “Shut up and take it.”

“That sounds worse.”

“Oh my _God just take the fucking pill_.”

Satisfied with Wally's frustration, Dick dropped the pill on his tongue and washed it down with water. “You're funny when you're mad.”

Wally groaned, raking his hands over his face. “Is this helping you feel better?”

“Not really. I'm just bored.”

“Maybe you'd feel better if you stopped hunching.”

“Don't tell me how to live my life.”

Wally ignored that. “Shuffle forward.”

“Why?”

“Because you're all tensed up and it's making you worse.” Wally helped him move forward enough that he could slot in behind. Wally dug his fingers into the join between Dick's neck and shoulder on the bad side, extracting a half-aborted yelp.

“Are you _trying_ to make it worse?” Dick complained.

“You'll feel better when you've relaxed a bit,” Wally assured him, circling his thumb into the hardened muscle. “And then maybe you'll stop yelling at me.”

Dick's face rushed with the heat of shame. “Sorry.” It wasn't Wally's fault he was in pain.

“I'm a sensitive soul, babe. And my soul is bruised.”

Dick snorted. It hurt.

“What'd you do to yourself today?” Wally asked, digging his free hand into the other side of Dick's neck now the initial shock of pain had died down.

“Tried boxing.”

“And you kicked your own ass.”

“Evidently.” Sitting up wasn't comfortable in the slightest, making the effort of breathing into quite a task.

Wally shifted down to the muscles around Dick's shoulder blades. He avoided the injury best he could, but it still left Dick sucking in air like a drowning man.

“Need a break?”

Dick shook his head.

Wally stopped anyway, kissing the top of his head. “You're a shit liar today.” He pressed his thumbs on either side of Dick's spine, below the ribs. “This feels like a rock, babe.”

“I wanna find who first said massages are relaxing.” Because this damn well wasn't. “And stab them.”

“They'll just think you're doing acupuncture.” Wally slowly began to work his thumbs up and down either side of Dick's spine, rubbing out the knots of tension. “You've been mostly pain-free the last few days.”

“Because I haven't been testing myself.” The last time, prior to this, had also ended badly. Dick had convinced himself to give up for the better part of the week before he got frustrated and tried again.

Things had been quiet lately. With the trial over and Dick still healing, there hadn't been much to do. The things he'd talked about with Dinah hovered in his mind, but, honestly, he'd been taking a well-deserved break from the deluge of bullshit that was his life. Of late, he'd been mulling over how to talk to Wally and Jason. Barbara was on the back of his mind, but he wanted to address her as Nightwing first, so that would have to wait until he was well enough for patrol.

“I've been thinking,” Dick said after a while, just as Wally's torturous thumbs actually started releasing his aching muscles.

“You're always thinking, babe.”

“About us.”

Wally paused for half a second before he gently pulled Dick's bad shoulder back, out of its hunched position. “Oh?”

“I want to have sex.”

“Oh.”

If he wasn't so concerned about jarring his injury, Dick would've elbowed him. “Relax. I'm not gonna jump you right this moment. My arm would fall off.”

Wally settled against the headboard, bringing Dick back to rest against his chest. “I figured.”

“I just... I wanna talk about it. Dinah had some suggestions on how to make it easier for me.”

Dick caught a glimpse of Wally's face flushing bright red. “The fact you could talk to her with a straight face...”

“It was awkward as hell.”

“Barry and Iris gave me the updated _straight people trying to talk about gay_ _sex_ talk when they found out we were dating,” Wally said. “Once we knew you were out of the hospital after, you know...”

Dick could fill in the sentence for him. The Joker's trap. “Was it fun?”

“They gave me the hetero version when I was dating Arty, but this one was the worst experience of my life outside of all the times you've nearly died.”

“Hyperbolic _and_ level-headed. Nice.”

Wally huffed a laugh into Dick's hair. “So, uh...” He cleared his throat. “Sex. Obviously we'll have to take things slow.”

“Yeah. Dinah said we should stop if I'm even the slightest bit uncomfortable, just in case.”

“That's fair. I know how you get sometimes, especially when you think you're being difficult. So we'll stop if you're uncomfortable and you're not going to feel guilty about it.”

“I'll try.” Dick couldn't promise anything more. He could already tell he was going to get frustrated with himself. “I'm also trying to figure out why I want this so much.”

“There doesn't have to be just one reason,” Wally said. “I've been thinking about how we've talked about this before and, like, it's totally fair if part of you does want this because of the control thing. As long as, well...” Wally trailed off, apparently unsure how to finish.

“As long as most of it's because I love you,” Dick finished for him. Maybe some of it would always come down to wanting his bodily autonomy back, but that didn't mean he had to let it consume him. He had the freedom, and support, to keep it in check far more easily now the weight of the trial had been lifted from his shoulders.

Wally rested his chin on the top of Dick's head. “I love you too. I've been looking up ways to help. Maybe we can use, like, a safe word.”

“Kinky,” Dick said, because he could.

Wally's eye-roll was practically audible. “That way you don't have to worry about me not hearing you right or your words getting jumbled if you're freaking out. Just one word, something we'd never say in that, uh, situation.”

For all Dick's mockery, he wasn't exactly opposed. Something easy to remember, something distinctive.

“Trapeze,” Dick said.

“Trapeze?”

“For the safe word. Unless a trapeze is somehow involved. I mean, I am an acrobat. It could happen.”

Wally groaned. “Don't put thoughts in my head.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You're a terrible person,” Wally muttered. “But it sounds like a good idea. The word, I mean. It's not something either of us are going to forget in a hurry.”

“Trapeze it is.”

Wally gently stroked Dick's shoulder, close to the injury on his chest. “Are you feeling better?”

Dick nodded. He could breathe without difficulty, and moving wasn't bothering him as much.

“Mind if we move a bit?” Wally asked. “I really want to kiss you.”

“I'll lie down. No contortionism for me today.”

Wally carefully set him down on the pillows, resting on his elbow beside him. “We're not doing anything today,” he promised. “But you can use the safeword if I make you uncomfortable.”

Dick wanted to say that was unlikely to happen, but it was hard to tell sometimes. If he needed Wally off him in a hurry, using _trapeze_ would be fine. Practice makes perfect, after all.

They were still kissing when Jason knocked on their door to call them down for dinner. Standing up caused Dick's ears to rush and he had to sit down for a few minutes while Wally fussed over him like a mother hen. Or like Alfred.

The whole family was already there by the time Dick felt well enough to reach the dining room. Bruce had been in the batcave when Dick hurt himself, and judging from his pinched expression, was still busy berating himself for letting it happen.

Dick flicked his ear. “You look like you've eaten an entire lemon tree.”

Wally high-fived him. Gently.

Bruce ignored that. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Nearly passed out when I stood up, but at least it was exciting.” Dick sat on his usual chair, with Wally helping push it in so he wouldn't strain his injury.

Today was a good food day for Dick. He was never going to keep up with Jason, who even as a non-meta ate enough for three people, but he managed to clear his plate tonight and even fit in a slice of frosted banana loaf. Bruce detested the stuff for some reason. Dick watched him grumble under his breath between bites until Alfred cuffed him over the head with a teatowel.

“The wrath of the Dark Knight is terrible indeed,” Dick teased as Bruce sulked quietly in his seat. Bruce checked to make sure Alfred wasn't watching, and shoved his piece of loaf onto Dick's plate. Dick passed it to Wally, who devoured it in seconds.

Bruce and Jason went off to patrol. Dick slept as well as ever, with Wally's presence lulling him back to sleep after his nightmares were finished.

* * *

Dick was getting stronger. He hadn't aggravated the remnants of the gunshot wound in a while. Bruce had agreed to help with him some light upper body training, which left him exhausted but satisfied. Wally was struggling with his workload at school, sometimes electing to stay at Barry and Iris's to get it done. Even his text messages sounded strained.

Without Wally around to distract him, Dick had far too much time to think about the other things he needed to deal with. Jason. Barbara. His room.

He missed his room. He missed the freedom of knowing exactly where his things were and being able to retrieve them himself. He missed his Flying Graysons poster and the armchair he threw his clothes on, aggravating Alfred. Hell, he missed having Jason as a neighbour. If he listened carefully late at night, he'd hear his brother coming in from patrol and know he was safe.

One afternoon, while Wally was sequestered at home studying for another test, Dick found himself in the hallway leading to his room. Every step felt heavier than the last, the hallway stretching impossibly before him. He pushed himself onward, watching his feet as he put one before the other, before the other. It was just a room. It had been his since he was little. He wasn't quite so little anymore, in the midst of a growth spurt that stopped just short of threatening his recovery from the bullet. Zatanna's magic kept him in one piece.

Dick let out his breath as he finally reached the door. All he had to do was extend his hand and turn the handle. His hand felt like a weight on the end of his arm. He flexed his fingers. Just grab it.

Grab it.

_Grab it_.

Dick finally raised his hand, but those few inches of distance grew into a mile. He persisted, but his hand grew heavier and heavier and the distance stretched wider and wider. He dropped his arm, backing away from the door, and felt the opposite wall against his back. He slid to the floor in an inelegant tangle of limbs.

He'd nearly had it. Just a few inches and the door would've opened. It was just a door. Compared to what he'd already accomplished, it was nothing. A hunk of wood hiding a room.

A room that had haunted him for months. Dick pressed his palms to his eyes, hard enough to generate spots of light, willing the memories away. He didn't need this, not when the whole damn ordeal was over. He had justice. Why couldn't he get on with his life?

Dick knocked the back of his head against the wall. He'd described, in detail, the things he'd been through to a room full of strangers _and_ the people who had done those things. Walking into his own bedroom should've been easy compared to that. It was just a place. There was nothing mystical about this room, only his mind twisting it up in his memories.

A soft _creak_ pulled Dick out of his hate spiral. Jason poked his head out of his own room.

“Hey,” Jason said.

“Hey.”

“Want company?”

Dick shrugged.

Jason sat beside him. “What're you doing down here?”

Dick turned his gaze to his bedroom door.

“Right. Duh.” Jason eyed it with some trepidation of his own. “No one's been in there for a while. Bruce and Alfred fixed everything when the police were finished. Bruce installed the missile-proof glass in there like he did everywhere and added some kind of sliding wall thing over it so you don't have to see it at all unless you wanted to.”

Dick nodded. He'd assumed the glass had been replaced like the rest of the manor, but he hadn't known about the wall.

Jason bumped their shoulders together. “I can go with you, if you like.”

“Maybe another day,” Dick said quietly. “I'm not... just not today.”

“Yeah,” Jason murmured. “Whenever you're ready, though, hit me up.”

“Thanks, Jay.” Dick had used all his strength trying to open the door. He rested his head on Jason's shoulder. The kid was growing like a weed, already close to Dick's height.

Jason held himself very still, as if afraid Dick would slide off if he moved. “Bruce said you're almost healed.”

Dick nodded, crinkling Jason's school shirt. “I haven't aggravated it in a while. Even managed a pushup yesterday.”

“One whole pushup. Wow.”

“Maybe you can beat me in a fight now.”

“I could always beat you in a fight.”

Dick reached up and patted his face. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.”

“You're not that much older than me.”

“Big brother privileges.” Dick frowned at the door. “I'm gonna drown my sorrows in TV. Wanna come?”

Jason sprung to his feet, offering Dick a hand up. “Come on, old man.”

Dick let Jason pull him to his feet. “Just you wait until I've got my strength back. Then you're going down.”

They spent the better part of the afternoon on the couch, half-heartedly poking each other through a marathon of shitty daytime soaps. Dick didn't quite have the energy to commit to the game after wasting it all on his ill-fated attempt to get into his room, and Jason was more engrossed in the show than he would ever admit.

Wally staggered in at some point, throwing himself across Dick and Jason's laps, his face landing in a cushion with an audible _thud_. Dick patted the back of his head.

“You survived, I see.”

“Barely,” Wally replied, voice muffled.

Jason shoved at his legs. “Get off me.”

“I'm _tired_.”

“Go be tired somewhere else.”

“He's trying to figure out who got this woman pregnant,” Dick told Wally, gesturing to the TV. “It's probably the old flame who came back for a one night stand before running off with her sister.”

Jason punched his shoulder. “Shut it.”

“Truth hurts, little wing. It's never the nice guy who helped her with the groceries.”

Jason grumbled under his breath, mashing the volume button on the remote until Dick couldn't speak without shouting over the TV. He could feel the rumbling of snores through Wally's body, even if he couldn't hear them. Wally's presence was more important to him than his attention at this moment anyway. Were Wally awake enough to talk, he probably would've noticed something off about Dick, which would inevitably lead to questions. Questions Dick wouldn't be forced to answer, but would feel obligated to anyway.

Dick was perfectly content to just sit here with his boyfriend and his brother, letting his brain rot to the sound of awkwardly-delivered lines and plot twists he had, in fact, called a mere five minutes into the episode. Sometimes he just needed to shut off, let everything wash over him, and just _be_.

He didn't have to fight all the time. He was allowed to take a break from time-to-time.

Alfred let them eat dinner on the couch that night, though Dick couldn't figure out which of them, between him and a still slightly vacant Wally, the man pitied enough to abandon his usual concerns about decorum. Bruce joined them in a worn armchair Alfred constantly complained needed reupholstering, and insisted they watch something less painful, though Jason wouldn't acquiesce until the final episode of the marathon had ended.

Then he threw the remote at Bruce. “I can't match up to your exacting standards, boss. Have at it.”

Of course, they ended up watching one of those creepy true crime TV shows about a real life serial killer.

Wally stirred, turning a bleary eye to the screen. “The hell is wrong with you people?”

“Blame Bruce,” Jason said mildly, shoving a forkful of lasagne into his mouth.

Wally grudgingly sat up and accepted a plate from Alfred. Dick had a smaller portion; today wasn't a good day to test his limits. At least he had confirmation he hadn't lost his ability to stomach true crime TV shows while eating. Bruce had trained him out of that kind of queasiness early on. Wally had always found it disturbing whenever Dick brought it up, but it was a necessary skill for anyone fighting crime in Gotham in particular. Dick even knew some police officers who scoffed down sandwiches in the squad car right outside a grizzly crime scene. The world didn't stop because something like blood made you queasy. And if you had a particularly busy day of dealing with homicides, you would certainly pass out from low blood sugar.

Dick ate half his dinner before he started to feel his usual illness. Wally finished the rest without a word, which, again, was normal. Bruce retreated to the batcave, passing control of the remote back to Jason. Wally, still slightly sleepy, snuggled against Dick.

Jason threw the remote at them. “Be nice to each other,” he said, hopping over the back of the couch. He was out of the room before Wally could question him.

“Did something happen?” Wally asked Dick instead.

Dick shrugged. “Tried to go back to my room. It didn't happen. Jay hung out with me, though, so it wasn't a total loss.”

That perked Wally up. He straightened, lifting Dick's chin with a finger, light enough that Dick could've refused to move if he'd so desired.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine, Walls. It just took a lot out of me.”

“Are you going to try again?”

“Probably.”

“I could come with you.”

“Jason offered the same thing.” Dick took Wally's hand from his chin, clasping it in both of his own. “I think he needs to go back there as much as I do.”

Wally nodded with understanding. “Well, if you decide you want someone else there, too...”

Dick kissed the tip of his nose. “Thank you.” Wally had enough on his plate, and Dick already knew he wouldn't ask Wally to help him with this. The offer was enough.

* * *

Dick kept training. Soon enough, he was strong enough to train on the gymnastic apparatus again.

He'd worked up a rhythm on the pommel horse, swinging his legs around and around at a steady pace that he could maintain for a while. He listened to Bruce as he read a few police reports aloud for his benefit, occasionally asking short questions about a new officer he hadn't met or a particularly unusual crime.

“This one seems to be a copycat,” Bruce was telling him, having read out the details of a murder victim who'd had a smile drawn on his face. “The Joker is definitely in Arkham. Jim checked personally.”

Dick had to breathe a little deeper, focus a little harder on his body to avoid losing his rhythm. “Where's Harley?”

“She and Poison Ivy are in the city somewhere. They've been quiet.”

“Could they have done it?”

“Unlikely. Ivy prefers to keep Harley away from the Joker.”

“Glad she knows someone with a lick of sense.” Ivy certainly hadn't been impressed with the Joker last time Dick had seen them near each other. By all reports, they hadn't worked together since.

Bruce hummed and closed that particular report. “Getting tired yet?”

“A little.” Dick could taste his own sweat, but kept going. His arms were shaking a little. He'd stop when they couldn't support him properly. “Can I patrol with you tomorrow night?”

“Maybe the night after, assuming you're ready.”

“BC's taking the team through an obstacle course tomorrow,” Dick told him. “If I can do it in no more than double my usual PB, can I patrol?”

“No more than one and a half times your PB, and I'll consider it.”

Dick grinned. He'd expected that. Hopping off the pommel horse with as neat a dismount he could manage with his body shaking from exertion, he wiped his dripping face with a towel and headed upstairs for a bath. He still wasn't comfortable with showers. It wasn't particularly urgent, so he didn't push himself. The human race had survived for thousands of years just with baths, after all.

Wally called from school while he watched the tub fill. Dick put him on loudspeaker and set the phone on the surface by the sink, far enough from water but close enough to pick up conversation.

“Hey, Walls,” he said, testing the heat of the water with his whole arm. “It's not your lunch hour.”

“Everyone finished the test early so the teacher let us have the rest of the class off,” Wally replied.

“And you're using that precious free time to call me. I'm flattered.” Dick shut off the tap, pulling off his shirt.

“Did you ask the big guy about patrol?”

“I did. He agreed to let me come the night after tomorrow based on how well I do on the obstacle course.”

“Did he haggle you down?”

“Of course he did.” Dick finished stripping off and sank into the hot water. It was almost too hot, on the edge of burning. Dick preferred it like that. “One and a half. Like I expected.”

“Think you can do it?”

“Probably. If not, I'll keep training until I can.”

“Your voice is kinda echoey. You better not be talking to me on the toilet.”

“No, I'm in the bath.”

“...oh.” Wally's voice was faint. Dick could imagine his face wiping blank as his brain shut down.

Dick laughed, loudly so he could be sure Wally heard him. “Mind out of the gutter, West. I've been training my ass off and I smell disgusting. This is not for your benefit.”

“If it was, you'd be an even stronger telepath than M'gann.”

Dick tipped his head back, just enough to wet his hair. “Don't count me out. I could be the most powerful meta in the world, strong enough to make everyone forget if they see me do something cool.”

“I would not be surprised.”

Dick reached for his shampoo, lathering a few drops into his hair. “Are you coming over tonight? Or do you need more study time?”

“I'm coming. With my books, obviously, because I can't be free of the damn things.” Wally's voice grew distant from the phone, as he addressed someone else. Dick, using the break in conversation to wash out his shampoo, heard a vague teasing tone from the other person, and Wally telling them to fuck off. “Sorry, babe. Apparently the guys think it's funny I'm using our temporary freedom to call my boyfriend.”

“I hope you didn't tell them I'm naked. Even if it would help your case.”

“Please don't remind me. I'm barely coping as it is.”

Dick couldn't help but tease him, just a little. “What would you do if you were here?”

“Go for a run to get impure thoughts out of my head, probably.”

“What if I invited you to join me?”

Wally groaned. “Don't do this to me.”

“Sorry,” Dick said, not sounding sorry at all.

Being able to tease Wally like this, like anyone might do to their boyfriend, was oddly liberating. They knew what they wanted, even if it wasn't going to happen for a while, and they could talk about it with a freedom they'd never had before. Wally was always careful not to set him off, of course, but Dick enjoyed being able to test his own limits, prodding at his old boundaries to find they were more than willing to shift for this one person he trusted.

“I was going to try studying for a bit,” Wally admitted. “Not sure I can focus now.”

“I could text you when I'm clothed, if you'd like an update.”

“You are not helping.”

“Hey, it could be worse. I could be trying to initiate phone sex.”

“Please don't put thoughts in my head. Now I'll need to go for two runs.”

Dick grabbed his soap and a washcloth. “Honey, you could run the entire circumference of the United States and it would still not be enough to clean your brain.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can we talk about something not related to nudity? I _am_ in public.”

Dick obliged. “I tried on my old Nightwing costumes earlier.”

“And?”

“My normal one almost fits,” he said, scrubbing his arms. “Almost. So I tried the one Alfred took in. It's a bit too snug, which I'm taking as a good sign. He's gonna let it out a little bit so I can wear it to training tomorrow. And the bullet wound's officially just a scar. Haven't felt any pain from it in ages.”

“About damn time something actually went your way.”

“I think I'll try the trapeze tonight.”

“Haven't you been training all day?”

“I should be fine with a few hours' rest. Alfred's been upping my protein intake to improve recovery times. He even found a protein powder that isn't disgusting.”

“What's his secret?”

“Witchcraft, probably.”

Wally snickered. “I should try to study. Don't drown.”

“Don't get too distracted by the thought of me naked in the bath.” Dick rinsed the washcloth in the water. “I'm about to get out and get dressed, if that helps.”

“Infinitely. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye.”

“Bye.” Wally hung up. The hangup tone hung in the air while Dick climbed out and dried off. He sent off a text once he had clothes on:

“ _You can relax now. I'm clothed.”_

To which Wally replied, _“I might need to go for that run anyway.”_

Dick had a light lunch, finishing everything on his plate—he was famished _—_ before he rested until the late afternoon when school let out.

Wally's weight on the bed shifted him out of his doze. “Don't get up on my account, babe.”

Dick smiled up at him, vision still a little blurred. “'S cool. I'm awake.”

Wally pressed his lips to Dick's forehead. Dick dragged him down until he had to lie next to him. Dick buried his face in his boyfriend's shirt, already close to drifting off again.

“Yeah, you're so awake.”

Well, he was _now_. “Keep talking like that and you can go for that run and leave me in peace.”

Wally made a pained sort of noise. “Please don't remind me.”

“You've given me a very powerful weapon.”

“You didn't have to tell me you were _naked_.”

Dick muffled his laughter into Wally's shirt.

“Seriously, dude. I'm suffering.”

“Hey, you asked. I answered.” Dick parted Wally's collar and pressed his lips to the skin underneath. Right on the collarbone, funnily enough. “I hope I didn't embarrass you _too_ much.”

“I kept my cool. Barely.” Wally plucked at Dick's fringe, with no clear aim. “Let's not make a habit of naked phone conversations while I have to be around people. Hate to get a hard-on in public.”

Dick couldn't help a smirk. “Don't give me ideas.”

“That wasn't an invitation. _God_.”

They spent the next few hours cuddling and kissing, with some good old-fashioned teasing on Dick's end. He almost managed to make Wally's face match his hair.

The two of them headed down to the batcave once Dick's dinner had time to settle. Bruce was already down there, checking and rechecking all the rigging on the trapeze.

“Speaking of trapezes,” Dick whispered to Wally, just to make him blush again.

“If you make that joke one more time, we are changing the safeword.”

“My word, my rules.”

Wally rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Probably because he had no leg to stand on, since he was giving Dick as much control as possible when it came to any kind of intimacy between them. Apparently, that also meant he'd have to put up with Dick joking about it, too. It probably didn't help that Dick had already changed into a leotard before coming down here.

Dick chalked up his hands while Bruce finished his assessment. “Looks sturdy, B.”

Bruce tugged on one last wire, which was as firm as it should be. “Take it easy. You've already fatigued yourself today.” He ruffled Dick's hair on the way out, assuring the boys he would be nearby.

Wally, behind him, rested his hands on Dick's hips, leaning down to kiss his temple. “Ready, babe?”

Dick rubbed his chalky hands together. He'd spent nearly five minutes just doing it this morning, having missed the feeling. The trapeze was a long way up. He hadn't flown in a while, and had lost track of how many times he'd had to reacquaint himself with the rig these past several months. He was tired of being sidelined and unable to do the thing that tied him to the Flying Graysons. Hopefully this would be the last time he had to reintroduce himself to the trapeze for a long time.

Dick let out a breath. “I'm ready.” He leaned back, pecking Wally's lips, and stepped out of his embrace. He climbed the ladder, and couldn't help but remember the last time he'd returned to the trapeze, back in January. Wally had been watching then, too. And he'd gotten to see Dick fall off the bar and right into the net.

That wouldn't happen today. He'd be careful. He was only just getting his strength back anyway.

The familiar nostalgia filled Dick's heart as he reached out to grip the bar. Every time he was away from the trapeze for any length of time, it always came back to him like this, stronger than ever. It was how his family lived on, and the moment when their memory was most vivid in Dick's mind. He could also speak his native tongue much more fluently on the trapeze than anywhere else, those memories somehow sharpening, too. Everything connected to his family was clear as a freshly-taken photograph.

Dick spared a glance and a smile at Wally, small and doll-like this far away, and pushed off. He could almost hear his father's encouragements, his mother's praise, and his grin threatened to split his face in two.

He caught the other bar with ease, swinging to its apex and back down, daring a somersault back to the first. He didn't attempt the quadruple today, but there would be plenty of time for that. That feeling of weightlessness at the apogee of the swing was enough of a thrill for today.

His landing on the platform wasn't his most graceful, but it was a safe one. That was enough for a first time back. And he hadn't fallen into the net. Wally's cheers carried up to his ears, and he peered over the edge to find him waving his hands and dancing like a fool.

Dick hurried down the ladder, Wally lifting him off before he could touch the ground, spinning him in a circle. Dick tucked his chin against Wally's shoulder, still grinning so hard his face hurt. As soon as his feet were back on the floor, the two of them kissed, holding their lips together and still until Dick's pounding heart demanded he breathe.

Wally cupped his cheeks. “I haven't seen you smile like this in... forever.”

“I haven't felt like this in forever.” Dick felt like himself. Not like the person he'd carved out in the aftermath of the Red Hood, but the person he should've been all along. The person that thirteen-year-old, language-mangling brat would've grown into if the Joker hadn't intervened.

Still breathless, he rose onto the balls of his feet and rested his forehead against Wally's, who held him steady even though he was plenty steady on his own. That was the whole point of being in a relationship, wasn't it? You were there for each other even when you were capable of standing alone. Just because you could didn't mean you had to.

Dick smacked one more kiss to Wally's lips, before darting back to the chalk bowl. “I'm going again.”

Wally's laugh was bright and infectious.


	43. Augury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is busting to get back on patrol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my super long notes. I'm tired and have apparently lost my brain filter.
> 
> Warnings: vague references to the sexual assault of minors, minor torture references, sexual situations. Nausea.
> 
> So I decided to refer to a poem in the last scene of this chapter for some reason. Auguries of Innocence by William Blake, who was a poet in the late 18th-early 19th century. I'm so sorry. Ever since I studied him in literature class half a freaking decade ago, I swear...
> 
> Anyway, the chapter title is also a reference to the poem as well as having particular meanings of its own. An augury is an omen, either good or bad, of things to come, derived from the study of bird flight patterns in Ancient Rome. I'm sure there were other societies with similar practices, but I can't seem to find info on them in a pinch.

Putting the Nightwing costume back on was weird. Alfred had made sure the modified costume fit, but there was no shaking the feeling of not belonging in it. Dick juggled the escrima as he mentioned it to Wally, which helped him be honest without getting too serious.

“You look fine in it,” Wally replied. “That is my professional opinion as your boyfriend.”

Dick raised an eyebrow, adding one of his spare escrima into the routine. “Just fine?”

“Yeah. Like, damn, my boyfriend is _fine_.”

Dick snorted, watching the escrima arc through the air. “Acceptable.” He put the spare stick away and slotted the other two into his thigh holster. “Shall we go?” Batgirl was going to be there. Dick, who was in the midst of putting on his mask to become Nightwing, was not going to deal with that today. But it would be soon.

Wally pulled down his cowl to take on Kid Flash, and led Nightwing to the zeta tube. “Hope we're not standing around too much,” he said as Nightwing programmed Mount Justice as a destination. “It's harder to pretend I'm not madly in love with you when I don't have anything to do.”

They stepped into the tube, materialising instantly in Mount Justice. Aqualad was waiting for them.

“Everyone else is already here,” he said, leading them down the nearest corridor. “How are you both?”

“Good,” they both answered.

Aqualad brought them to one of the larger training rooms, which tended to accommodate whatever the latest obstacle course Batman and Black Canary had designed. They kept them similar in the time it took to complete them, so it was easier to compare progress.

“That's everyone,” said Black Canary. They spent a few minutes warming up, before she spoke again. “Metahumans with speed advantages have their usual rules. Kid Flash, ten laps of the course. Superboy, five. Aqualad and Miss Martian, three and no powers beyond strength. Zatanna, no magic. Rocket, no belt.”

That left Nightwing, Robin, Artemis and Batgirl with no restrictions beyond putting their equipment aside on the table waiting by the door. Red Arrow wasn't here today, though he was technically a member of the League rather than the team anyway.

There were too many of them to take the course at once, so they split into two groups. Kid Flash, Superboy, Zatanna, Artemis and Batgirl went first. The others, while waiting, took the opportunity to warm up some more. Nightwing stretched a little, choosing not to test the limits of his flexibility yet. Long stretches with the intent to increase flexibility could sometimes turn off pain receptors and lead to injury if exercise was performed right afterwards. Better to do it at the end.

“Think I can beat you?” said Robin as they sat on the floor together, stretching their hamstrings.

“Maybe. It might be the only time you can.”

“Robin's been doing well lately,” said Miss Martian.

Robin stuck his tongue out. “See?”

“Nice to see sibling rivalry isn't all about blood,” said Rocket.

Kid Flash was zooming through the course as expected. Even with ten laps to run, he was finished well before anyone else. So he went and did ten more, beating his personal best on that second attempt.

“We haven't seen much of Kid Flash,” said Aqualad.

“School's keeping him busy,” Nightwing replied. “I'm not sure I'm gonna be glad when he graduates, or terrified of what will happen next.” He hadn't thought about it much. One crisis at a time.

“That seems to be a common sentiment.”

“I'm trying not to think about it,” said Rocket. She was patting her waist where her belt usually sat. “I feel naked.”

“I feel you,” Nightwing said. “I haven't worn this costume in ages. I forgot how revealing it is.” It didn't exactly bother him, but it'd take some getting used to again.

“It looks nice,” Miss Martian said. “You look healthy. Have you grown? You've grown.”

“I'll need a new costume made soon enough.” Nightwing was still short enough, given Alfred always had his costumes made with a little extra length in the limbs, but there was only so much extra length these things could have before they became impractical.

Kid Flash finished a third set of laps, just because he could, and threw himself on the floor beside Nightwing, flopping his sweaty hair onto the younger boy's shoulder. The others were almost done.

“I'm only letting you get away with this until you get your breath back,” Nightwing said. “Then you can take your grossness somewhere else.”

“I hugged you after the trapeze.”

“I barely did anything on the trapeze.” Nightwing had to stop himself from giggling. Honestly. He should've picked a different safeword. If he'd known how much this one would come up in conversation, he probably would have. But now he was committed and he wasn't backing down.

Soon enough, the rest of the team finished the course and slumped on the floor with their water bottles. Kid Flash joined them, leaving Nightwing free to join the second group at the beginning of the course.

Robin punched his shoulder. “Race ya.”

“You're on.”

Black Canary started the timer and the five of them dived into an army crawl beneath barbed wire fencing. Aqualad and Miss Martian were already pulling ahead a bit. Robin, Nightwing and Rocket were closer together, though the few inches of height Nightwing had gained recently gave him a slight advantage.

They emerged and sprinted the next section, before alternately leaping over and ducking under a series of logs. Aqualad and Miss Martian were already climbing the wall ahead, which took them only a few seconds due to their strength.

Nightwing had managed to get ahead of Rocket and Robin by the time they reached the wall, so he had his pick of hand and footholds. Robin was practically nipping at his heels, though, and Rocket was close herself. Nightwing concentrated on climbing. He couldn't pull his own weight as easily as he once did. He reached the top and dropped down, landing in a careful crouch.

He bounded out of it and hopped into a tire, then the next and the next. His heart was starting to pound faster than he would've liked, his breaths spiralling out of his control. He'd expected it, at least.

Onto a balance beam. He could do this part in his sleep if he were so inclined.

More walls to climb. Logs. A rope swing. Everything started blurring together in the haze of his heart pounding in his ears, air burning in his throat. Aqualad and Miss Martian lapped him once, and were right on his heels when he finally crossed the finish line.

He doubled over, hands on his thighs, gasping for breath. A water bottle appeared in front of his face. Aqualad.

Nightwing nodded his thanks, downing half the bottle in seconds. He felt a little queasy, and sat on the nearest bench.

“I was close,” Robin said, flopping down next to him. “And I don't feel half as dead as you look. But I tried, I swear.”

Nightwing patted the kid's back, choosing to keep his mouth shut. Even if he had enough air to talk, it wasn't worth the risk of vomiting in front of everyone.

“If you puke on me, I will shove that bottle up your nose.”

Black Canary was upon them. “Hate to break up this heartwarming moment of brotherly affection, but I'd like to speak to Nightwing for a minute.”

Robin switched gears, bumping his shoulder into Nightwing's. “Hope you did it.” He headed towards the rest of the team, some of whom were lying on the floor while the others put in a token effort towards stretching.

Black Canary sat down, tapping Nightwing's computer glove. “Have you checked your time yet?”

Nightwing shook his head, so Canary brought it up on her own high-tech stopwatch that let her track up to ten different times at once. She pointed his out, and he had to laugh.

“Exactly one and a half times your PB.”

He clapped a hand over his mouth, shutting himself up before he did actually throw up. BC rubbed his back.

“Go get some air. You'll feel better.”

Wally was by his side almost the instant he stepped out of the room. “You okay?”

“Nauseous.” Dick peeled off his mask, rubbing his eyes. They stepped into an elevator to one of the outdoor decks. Dick took another careful sip of water.

“Should you be in an enclosed space when you're at risk of puking?”

The elevator doors opened and Dick stepped out. He set his water bottle on one of the small round tables set out for the few occasions the team felt like relaxing outdoors. He leaned against the railing and took a deep breath of the clean air blowing in from the habour.

Wally leaned beside him. “Canary looked happy. Does that mean you did it?”

Dick nodded, activating his glove computer and sending the results to Bruce. “B's gonna think I faked it.”

“Why?”

“Because it was the exact time I needed.” The sun was lowering, painting the sky gold. Dick's nose was already freezing.

Wally snorted. “Naturally.” He looped his arms around Dick's waist. “Feeling better?”

“Much.” Dick leaned into him. Wally, as per usual, ran several degrees hotter than the average human. Dick was tempted to warm his nose up on his boyfriend's neck.

“Maybe don't tell Bruce you made yourself sick.” Wally rubbed Dick's shoulders. “We should go inside before you freeze.”

“It's not _that_ bad.” They couldn't see much of the harbour at this angle, so Dick contented himself with watching the sky darken as the gold gradually faded to reds and pinks, to the beginnings of an inky blue.

Wally pressed their cheeks together. “Your face is so cold.”

“Feel my nose.”

Wally did. “Holy crap. We're going inside _now_. Bruce'll kill me if I let you get sick out here.”

“ _Let_ me?”

“Gotta start being responsible sometime.” Wally dragged him towards the elevator. “Come on.”

* * *

“Batgirl's meeting us at the GCPD,” said Batman, restocking his batarangs. Nightwing stood beside him at the workbench, rechecking every pouch in his own belt.

“I think I want to tell her everything,” he said, discarding a damaged smoke pellet in exchange for a new one. “Not sure if I should drop the Red Hood thing on her yet. Depends on how she takes the whole identity thing, I guess. Assuming she hasn't already figured it out.”

“It's your decision,” Batman replied.

“You sure?”

“If she is to be a part of our team, we will need to trust her with that kind of information.” Batman ran his gloved hands over each of his belt pouches, ensuring they were all securely shut. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Wally, in civvies, chatted to Robin near the batmobile. Nightwing was taking a bike since he would be returning home earlier.

“I should name this thing,” he said, picking up his helmet. “How about the Nightcycle?”

Batman didn't dignify that with a response. Robin, eyes hidden behind the lenses of his mask, moved his whole head to indicate an eyeroll.

“It can be anything you want it to be,” said Wally. “Follow your dreams.”

“At least _someone_ believes in me.”

“Just don't crash it.”

“I take it back.” Nightwing slung his leg over the bike. “I'll only be a few hours. Don't wait up if you get tired.”

“As if I could even try sleeping before I know you're safe.”

“I'll be fine,” Nightwing assured him, starting the engine as Batman and Robin hopped in the car. He followed them out of the cave.

Batgirl's voice crackled through the communicator. “The signal's up.”

“We're on our way,” said Batman.

Nightwing had missed the bike. He was steadier on it than Robin, so Robin typically rode shotgun in the car, injuries and emergencies notwithstanding. There was something about the tiny spark of danger as the bike leaned around corners that almost felt like flying.

They made good time, grappelling up to the GCPD roof and the batsignal. Batgirl joined them from a nearby rooftop.

Commissioner Gordon had his favourite trenchcoat on, his hands drifting in the warmth given off by the signal. “Family outing, Batman?”

Nightwing waved. “Hey, Commissioner.”

“Hello, Nightwing. Back for good this time?”

“Assuming I don't get blown up again, sure.”

“You're not funny,” Batgirl whispered.

“I'm a little bit funny.”

Batman and the Commissioner exchanged intel on a series of armed store robberies. Whoever was responsible had either been very careful or very lucky, because they had picked stores with poor security systems. Broken cameras, no metal detectors and the like.

“They seem to be sticking to the poorer parts of the city,” Commissioner Gordon was saying. “Guess they hoped we wouldn't care.”

Robin scoffed. “Shows what they know.”

“I'll pass on the witness statements,” said Gordon. “These people don't seem as dangerous as our usual crooks, but my force is stretched thin as it is.”

“We'll take care of it,” said Batman.

They headed off to the affected area, settling on the most secure rooftop to consult the files the Commissioner sent.

“Pretty vague descriptions” Robin said, scrolling through the information on his holocomputer. “Tall white guys, mid-twenties, partial to crowbars...”

“Because _that's_ original,” Nightwing added, scanning the rest of the file.

“Will that be a problem?” Batman asked.

Nightwing snorted. “As if. Of all the bountiful gifts the Joker gave me that fine day, a fear of crowbars was not one of them. Probably helped that I used one on him later. Empowerment and all that.”

“You hit the Joker with a crowbar?” asked Batgirl.

“Repeatedly.”

Her eyes narrowed. Well, given Nightwing was seriously thinking about telling her about the Red Hood anyway, he wasn't too worried if she put two-and-two together. Maybe it'd make things easier.

“Fair enough, I guess,” was all she said.

Batman sent the two of them to watch over a nearby street that contained plenty of vulnerable shops, some of which were still open. These guys seemed to prefer threatening staff, rather than breaking in and taking any spoils themselves.

“There's probably a thrillseeking aspect to these guys,” Nightwing said as they knelt on the edge of the rooftop.

“Or sadism,” Batgirl added.

“That too.”

Batman and Robin were interviewing the staff in some of the victimised stores. If Nightwing and Batgirl needed backup, they would arrive in minutes. Nightwing somewhat doubted the armed robbers would show up with vigilantes openly present in the area... unless their thrillseeking tendencies tilted more towards outright recklessness.

With nothing else to do but wait, Batgirl spoke again: “So, that personal stuff that stopped you from patrolling...”

“It's dealt with. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Still feeling the after-affects, but I'm cleared for light field work. I'll have to build myself back up to full duties.”

Batgirl pulled out a set of collapsible binoculars, setting her gaze on the far end of the street. “So, are you ever going to tell me what it was all about? Or is it one of those _don't trust the new girl_ things?”

“I've got the big guy's permission to tell you,” Nightwing said. “Tomorrow night?”

“Time and place?”

“Got a place in mind. I'll sort it out with Bats. How about after patrol?”

“Aren't you heading home early?”

“End of the night for me, a break for you. I'll buy pizza.”

“You're on.” Batgirl pointed to a car coming down the street. “I think those are our guys.”

The car rolled to a stop nearby and three men stepped out, badly concealing weapons behind their backs. One man stayed in the car, engine running. Nightwing told Batman over the communicator and he and Batgirl leapt between rooftops to get closer.

The men headed inside the nearest store and the shortest of the three swiped a candy display off the clerk's counter with his crowbar.

“Take out the driver,” said Nightwing, pulling out a smoke pellet. “Then come help me with these losers.” The shop door was slightly ajar, so it was a simple task to aim the pellet inside. While the driver was distracted by seeing the store fill with smoke, Batgirl got the jump on him just as Nightwing slipped through the door himself, careful not to trip the bell.

He took the nearest goon down with a well-placed escrima to the back of the head. The second had enough time to swing wildly into the smoke before he was down, too.

The third pulled out a pistol, just as the bell above the door tinkled.

“Gun!” Nightwing shouted, leaping out of his position as he spoke. A bullet pounded into the spot he'd been. A second hit near the door.

Nightwing grabbed the man's wrist, directing the gun to the floor, and slammed his head on the counter. The man crumpled and Nightwing slid the gun away with his foot.

Batgirl appeared as the smoke cleared, her hand pressed to her forearm. “Didn't realise there was a bell. Damn it.”

“Is it bad?”

She shook her head. “Just a graze. I'm fine.”

Nightwing put in a call to the police, just as Batman and Robin arrived.

“You're safe,” Batman assured the shopkeeper, who hadn't moved an inch since the fight ended. Robin disinfected Barbara's wound while Batman and Nightwing zip-tied the thieves and the driver.

Batman waited until the police had come and gone, and the four of them retreated to a rooftop, before he rounded on Batgirl.

“The bell?”

Batgirl nodded.

“Always assume any unknown entrance could give you away,” he said, firm in that way he got when he wouldn't allow himself to coddle someone who had made a mistake, regardless of injury. Nightwing didn't hear it very often these days, though he imagined he would once Batman got used to having him on patrol again.

“Easy mistake,” Nightwing added, to soften the blow.

“You haven't patrolled in months,” Batgirl shot back, instantly defensive. A paramedic had patched up her arm, and she was deliberately ignoring it in such a way that made it conspicuous.

Nightwing held up his hands. “Hey, I wasn't criticising.”

“No, you were comforting the rookie. The rookie who's been here all this time while you've been off doing what, exactly?”

“I said I'd explain tomorrow.” Nightwing had to fight the urge to snap right back at her. It wouldn't accomplish anything.

“Enough,” Batman commanded. “Batgirl, go home.”

“But—”

“ _Go home_.”

“I'll see you tomorrow night,” said Nightwing.

“Right. Whatever.” Batgirl shot her grapple line, swinging off the roof.

“Touchy,” said Robin.

“I shouldn't have said anything.”

“You did nothing wrong,” said Batman. “Are you up to keep patrolling?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that, B?”

* * *

Dick retired a few hours later, blood still rushing from his last fight. Nine Penguin henchmen to the three of them. No Penguin, and it was over far too soon. He took the long route home, leaning the bike into the corners as sharply as he could, just to see how far he could lean without falling off.

He was still on a high when he pulled into the batcave. Alfred was already waiting.

“I prepared a bath in the batcave facilities for you, sir,” he said, taking Dick's helmet.

Dick peeled off his mask, handing that off, too. “Thanks, Alf.” Assuming he could even sit still long enough to bathe...

It was probably the fastest bath he'd ever taken in his life. Hop in, wash hair, rinse hair, soap to hell and back, hop out. Barely taking the time to dry off, he threw on his pyjamas and headed upstairs.

Wally was still awake, rereading one of his assigned novels for school. “Hey, babe. How was it?”

“Not long enough.”

Wally took in his form, barely able to stand still even while talking. He laughed. “You look like you're about to jump out of your skin.”

“I feel like it, too.”

Wally dropped his book on the nightstand. Dick paced around the room, telling him all about the night. It was just as well Wally was a speedster, or he wouldn't have understood a word. Dick couldn't bring himself to slow down.

“...and honestly, I wish there'd been, like, eighteen of them. It was over in minutes and then Bruce sent me home but I'm still so _wound up_ and—”

“Really? I couldn't tell.”

“I'm still shaking. Look.” He held up his hands, barely keeping them still long enough for the adrenaline tremors to be clearly visible. “I could've run home and even then I'm not sure I'd be tired enough to sleep. I should probably go babble somewhere else because you really should be sleeping and you've got so much work to do and—”

“Tomorrow's Saturday. Well, today. You know what I mean. I've got the whole weekend to study.” He stepped into Dick's path, squeezing his hands. “I'm on top of things, babe. You don't have to worry.”

“You worry about me all the time.”

“And you don't?”

“Don't use logic on me. I might actually climb the walls. Do you think radioactive spiders really give people superpowers?”

“Probably not,” Wally indulged. “Unless it was, like, a magic radioactive spider.”

“Do you even believe in magic? I mean, I know you never used to, but then—”

“I try to keep an open mind these days.” Wally sat Dick on the bed. “How about we take a few deep breaths and try to chill out a bit, okay? I'm getting tired just looking at you and that's just not right.”

Dick had to laugh. He couldn't stop it. He breathed with Wally anyway, watching his face and his freckles and the way his bright green eyes were twinkling with amusement at Dick's expense but that was okay because it was beautiful. They climbed into the centre of the bed. Dick was still pretty wired, but his heartbeat had slowed enough to tolerate sitting. Barely.

“You kind of skated over that Barbara bit earlier,” Wally said, pulling Dick into the centre of the bed.

Dick shrugged, pressing his knee to Wally's. “Not much to tell. She accidentally set off the bell when she went in to back me up. My smoke pellet kept her hidden, so the shooter's aim was off. She's fine, but Bruce lectured her and she got mad at me for trying to console her.”

“And she needled you for not patrolling, which is kinda rude.”

“She doesn't know why yet. She'll probably feel bad once she does. Anyway, it happened. I'm not gonna cry about it.” Dick didn't want to dwell on any of it, much less the reason why she might feel bad. He was happy and he'd rather stay that way.

“I'm just wondering if I have to defend your honour.”

Dick snorted. “Definitely not. I'd rather you kiss me. Gotta work off this adrenaline somehow.” He was in the best mood he'd felt in ages. He wasn't about to let that go to waste.

Wally went in to kiss his cheek like an _asshole_ but Dick intercepted his lips with his own. They laughed against each other's mouths and Dick just had to loop his arms around Wally's neck. The kisses were short at first, like little high-fives. The analogy made Dick laugh harder and Wally, despite having no idea what set Dick off, laughed right along with him.

At some point, Dick climbed into Wally's lap and their kisses deepened, mirth vanishing in favour of this particular brand of closeness. Dick grabbed fistfuls of Wally's t-shirt to pull himself in, aided by his boyfriend wrapping his arms tightly around his waist until they couldn't physically get any closer. Dick traced the line of Wally's collarbone, down his breastbone, trailing back and forth over his ribs.

Their lips parted. More closeness. Something they only shared with each other. Dick was sinking, falling, and it didn't bother him in the slightest. His heart still fluttered but it was perfect. His skin felt like fire and his belly was a volcano. That was perfect, too.

Wally pulled back, just the slightest, breathing hard. “Um, babe?”

Dick watched him, still tracing a rib. “Mm?”

“Just thought I'd warn you. If we keep doing this... I might...”

Right. They were pressed right against each other. No hiding that. “Me too.”

“Are you... okay with that?”

“Don't know yet.”

“That doesn't fill me with confidence.”

Dick lifted his hand from Wally's rib to smooth out the frown crease between his eyebrows. “I want to find out.”

“You'll use the safeword if you have to?”

Dick nodded.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Wally leaned back in, slower, careful. Dick pushed against him, deepening their kisses, feeling the way Wally's hands balled to fists in his shirt. Wally slowly released his hands, pressing his palms flat to the small of Dick's back, a light pressure, easily resisted if Dick felt he had to. He didn't.

Wally left Dick's lips in favour for his neck, teasing out a shiver when he found just the right spot under his jaw. Dick grabbed his face and kissed him with enough force to hit the headboard. Giggles. Apologies. Pain forgotten in the rush to reconnect.

He could feel Wally's body respond beneath him and braced for his own reaction. Another shiver fell through his body, but it wasn't fear. The knowledge of how much he affected Wally sang in his blood.

Wally backed off a little, shortening their kisses but stroking Dick's cheek. Sweetening the moment. Pulling them back from the edge of a cliff neither of them were ready to jump.

Dick combed his fingers through Wally's hair with one hand, the other tracing a line of freckles on his neck. “Have you ever tried to count your freckles?”

“Once, when I was little,” Wally replied, voice warm with affection that made Dick's chest feel ready to burst. “Then there were more the next day, so I gave up.”

Dick brushed his lips against the freckles on his cheek. “Guess I'll have to pick up the slack.”

“You ever tried to count the stars? Or grains of sand?”

“Of course I have. This is _me_ we're talking about.”

“Counting my freckles is even worse.”

“I happen to like counting stars. Sand? Not so much.” Dick pinched his cheeks. “Why see the world in a grain of sand when we've got a whole universe out there?”

“Don't quote poetry at me, dude.”

“It was barely a quote.” More like an insult to a poet's entire body of work.

“Now you're splitting hairs.” Wally laced his fingers through Dick's, leaning into his hand. “Can you even see the stars in Gotham?”

“Barely, and forget about the Milky Way.”

“So you want to count my freckles instead?”

“Why count the stars when my boyfriend has a whole galaxy on his skin?”

“Did you seriously just...” Wally's skull smacked into the headboard again, though this time it was his own fault. “Oh my God. My boyfriend is a dork.”

Dick's answering cackle was loud enough to echo in the bathroom.


	44. Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Barbara have their talk. Dick needs time to recover from that, but then he has a few other things he needs to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy CRAP this is a monster of a chapter. Nearly 8k. Christ on a cracker. And the Dick and Barbara scene is, like, exactly half of it.
> 
> Warnings: discussion and recollection of sexual assault of minors and child prostitution, talk of self-harm and suicide attempts, flashbacks, mentions of eating issues, a seriously fucked-up surrealist nightmare related to some of the trauma Dick's been through.
> 
> Just... pretty much everything I've been warning for this whole damn fic.
> 
> Also, on a lighter note, behold my limited Italian skills. I'm... pretty sure it's all correct. Been a few years since I last studied it.

Batgirl scarcely said more than five words on patrol the next evening, and only nodded curtly when Nightwing told her Batman had given them space to talk in one of his safehouses. Nightwing couldn't focus, so Batman left him and Robin outside to deal with any stragglers that managed to escape the building.

They were onto their third raid of the night, flushing out various weapon stashes, each belonging to a different rogue thus far. This one was Two-Face's.

“You look nervous,” Robin said as he and Nightwing perched on a nearby rooftop, their communicators attuned to Batman and Batgirl in case they needed backup.

“I am nervous.”

“You know she's only snappy because she feels left out.”

“Just wait until I give her another reason.”

“You're gonna tell her everything?”

“That's the plan.”

“What if she tells her dad?”

“And how would she convince him without proof? He may be her dad, but he's still a cop.”

“He doesn't need proof to stop trusting us.”

“Telling him would raise questions about how she found out.”

“I suppose.” Robin paused to listen to chatter through the comm link, dismissing it as the usual strategising before he spoke again. “It's your call. I just... you know. Don't do anything you'll regret.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Little Wing.”

Robin sighed. “Don't start that again.”

“I'll be fine. By the time I get to the tricky bits, she'll be too busy feeling bad for me.”

Robin snorted. “You're a dick.”

Nightwing punched his shoulder. “No real names in the field.”

The raid went off without a hitch and Nightwing put in a call to the GCPD. Batman and Batgirl joined them once the police had arrived.

Batman shoved a wad of cash into Nightwing's hand. “For food.”

“Thanks, B. Is this our cue to run off?”

“If you get anchovies, I'll throw you in the river,” Batgirl threatened.

“There's a pizza shop near the safehouse.” Nightwing sent a copy of the menu to her wrist computer. “Just pick what you want. I have the appetite of a small bird anyway.” He could feel Batman's concern radiating out to him. “Chill out, B. I'll eat.”

Nightwing and Batgirl shot their grapple lines and began to fly across the city. As soon as Batgirl had decided, Nightwing put in a call to the pizza joint. They were used to serving vigilantes.

It took ten minutes to cross the city, enough time that the pizza would be ready. They dropped from the roof to enter the front door.

“And here I thought the rumours of the bats walking into fast food joints were just for publicity,” said Batgirl.

“It's my fault. I was nine and hungry and Batman is a pushover when it comes to small children.” Nightwing stepped up to the counter. The place hadn't changed in all the years he'd been away. Tacky linoleum floors, sticky counters that would send Alfred into a tizzy, the same oldies playing from a banged-up jukebox in the corner. It was as if time did not exist here.

The tiny Italian lady who ran the place slapped a pizza box on the counter, before adding a paper tube. “Garlic bread's on the house. _Sei troppo magro, ragazzo_.”

Nightwing laughed at her complaints about his thinness, passing a few bills her way. “ _Grazie_. Keep the change.” He grabbed their order and threw Batgirl an obnoxious grin. “ _Andiamo_?”

Batgirl smacked his arm. “Yeah, yeah. Move your skinny butt already.”

The entrance to the safehouse was on the roof of an apartment building. The penthouse had been adapted to house vigilantes, with a hidden elevator down to a small garage and batcave that barely fit the car and a couple bikes. They didn't use it often unless there were injuries or analyses that couldn't wait for the manor.

Nightwing dropped the food on the small card table in the kitchen. There was no real need to make the place aesthetically appealing when the occupants were too busy or too injured to give a damn.

Batgirl sat across from him, plucking a slice from her pizza box by the light of the one lamp Nightwing had bothered to turn on. “So, are we gonna talk now, or...?

“In a minute.” Nightwing tore off a piece of garlic bread. He'd forgotten how great it was. “There's a lot for me to say and I... I need to think.” He let the buttery garlic explode on his tongue, closing his eyes and focusing on the taste. He needed to be present—incredibly so—in order to deal with what he had to say tonight.

“Can I say something?” Batgirl asked in between bites of her pizza.

“Sure.” Nightwing grabbed another piece of garlic bread. He didn't feel sick yet, at least.

“I shouldn't have snapped last night.”

“It's okay. You were shot. That makes me snappy, too.”

Batgirl shoved the cowl off her face, turning back into Barbara. “I shouldn't have taken it out on you.”

“It's okay, Barb. I forgive you.”

Barbara started on her second slice of pizza. Nightwing went for his first. Margherita was always a safe bet, even if Jason complained about it being boring. He watched the cheese stretch out as he tore off a mouthful. Stay present.

He swallowed. “I guess I should start at the beginning.” His free hand reached for the edge of his mask, dislodging it. “Shall I reintroduce myself?” He dislodged the other side of his mask, letting it fall into his hand, blinking at the freedom from the lenses. “Hi, my name's Dick Grayson and I should've told you this a long time ago.”

“I knew it,” Barbara muttered. “Now what on earth happened to you?”

“Get comfortable. It's a long story.” Dick finished his pizza before he got started, shoving the rest of the box in Barbara's direction. “A little over three years ago, Batman and I went to Bosnia, hot on the trail of a man called Ra's al Ghul.”

Barbara nodded. “His name's come across dad's desk. Environmental terrorist hell-bent on saving the world from humankind, right?”

“Yeah.” The pizza wasn't sitting too well in Dick's stomach. “We were getting too close, so he hired the Joker to lead us astray. It worked, mainly because the Joker's henchman pinned Batman down in a fight, the Joker ran off and I followed him alone, giving him the perfect opportunity to abduct me.”

“You didn't want him to get away.”

“I still shouldn't have done it. It's not the first time I've gone after him by myself. It's just the first time no one saved me before he...” Dick breathed. “Anyway, I woke up in a shed. He tortured me for hours. The Joker's partial to the crowbar. I guess he knew Batman was getting close, because he left me there with a pile of explosives to finish the job.” Another breath. “I died. For real. After what he put me through, it was a blessing I went quickly, I guess.”

“So you really did die?”

Dick nodded.

“But you're here. How did you...? God.”

“There are a few things most people don't know about Ra's al Ghul,” said Dick. This was a topic he could handle. “One: he respects Batman and they've always had some weird notion of honour in the way they fight each other. I don't understand it, but apparently it extends to me. Two: Ra's al Ghul is hundreds of years old and sustains his life by bathing in healing waters called Lazarus Pits.”

“Are you telling me he felt bad for having a hand in your death?”

“Apparently, because he brought me back.” Dick could feel the memories nudging at his brain. “The thing about the Lazarus Pits, though, is they don't give life without consequence. Everyone who goes in comes out changed. The affects seem to wear off after a while, or maybe they just lie dormant. Maybe one day I'll wake up just as disturbed as I was when I crawled out. It was bad. Blind instinct kicks in when your brain is on fire like that. All you know is survival. So you fight. It doesn't matter who's there. They are the enemy and you need to get out. I think I jammed my thumbs into a guard's eyes. Even with M'gann's help, parts of the memory are unclear. I'm not sure I want that to change.”

“If you don't want the memory, why did she...?”

“She had to make sure Ra's hadn't altered my mind,” Dick replied. “We've had issues with people having their brains programmed. Ask Kaldur to fill you in. By the time I'm done here, I'm not gonna have much left in the tank for anything else.”

“You don't have to tell me everything tonight,” said Barbara. “If it's too much...”

“I want to get this off my chest.” Said chest was feeling too tight already, and he'd barely started. “There's a reason I needed to tell you my identity, because it ties into the full story. The things that happened to Robin and what recently happened to Dick Grayson are intertwined.”

“What are you saying? That Skinner went after you because of Robin?”

“I ran into him and several of his friends not long after the Pit,” Dick replied. “I had been recovering in a cave by a river, piecing my memories back together. But the water made me sick, forcing me out before I was ready. I found Skinner. He and his buddies helped me, but I had to pay a price.” The pizza was definitely not settling down inside him.

Fortunately, Barbara was smart enough to fill in the gaps. She squeezed Dick's hand.

“Please don't touch me.” He couldn't take the comfort, not without breaking down.

Barbara retreated. “Sorry.”

“The dates are fuzzy. I'm not sure when Ra's brought me back, and I'm not entirely sure how long I was stuck with Skinner's people. At least a month. Maybe longer. I was very sick. At least they waited for me to recover a bit before they...” Dick's laugh was most definitely unhinged, too much like the Joker. He shoved his hand over his mouth until it stopped.

“You don't have to put yourself through this,” Barbara said. “You've given me enough.”

It was an out. Dick could take it. He didn't have to tell her about the Red Hood, the years he spent alone with the anger and hate building inside him until it seemed like the only option, or all the times he wished he'd never been brought back, all the times he'd tried to put himself back in the grave. He didn't have to rip out his torn-up heart and put it on display for her.

But he wanted to. She deserved to know.

“I killed them,” he said, the words tearing themselves into ribbons on the sharp edges of his throat.

Barbara froze. “Who?”

“The people who kept me there.”

“It was clearly self-defence.”

Dick bit back another laugh. “The first, maybe. I killed him to escape. Took the knife he used on me and slashed his throat.”

Barbara rested her hands, balled into fists, on the tabletop. “And the others?”

“I met a woman whose daughter was raped and killed in that place. She... was the only person in the world who could've calmed me down, fresh from that hellhole as I was. She nursed me back to health and then we went back there together. It wasn't self-defence. It wasn't justice. It was revenge.”

“She shouldn't have dragged you into that.”

“I volunteered. I wanted them to die.”

“You said the Pit changes you?”

“It's not an excuse.”

“It's a little bit an excuse. If someone familiar with the Pit and how it could affect you had found you, made sure nothing happened...”

“Well, they didn't.” There wasn't a force in the world that could've kept the bitterness from Dick's voice. “I came back to myself alone. In a _cave_. That woman, Iman, was the first person to give a shit about me since I crawled out. I kept killing after that. I didn't see the point in stopping. If someone had killed the Joker when he first started making trouble, I never would've died and Skinner never would've...” Even the word was too much for him in this state.

Barbara hand twitched in his direction. She clenched it harder, pressing it into the table. She didn't look angry with him, or disgusted because of him. It was pity all over her face. Just pity. Dick didn't deserve that. God, if Wally knew what was going through his mind... would he even stick around if he knew Dick was a lost cause? That he wasn't better? He'd never be better. This was never going to end. It didn't matter if Skinner and all those people were in jail because he knew that wasn't _everyone_ and, even if it had been, there was always someone else ready to do the same horrible things. It made Dick tired.

“Should I call Batman?” Barbara said quietly.

“No.” Dick wasn't about to let Bruce see him like this. “I need to finish this now or I never will.”

“I'm listening.”

“I thought about getting in touch with Batman—Bruce.” As if the man's identity wasn't already obvious. “The Joker had gone back to Arkham. He was still alive. The day I learned that... wasn't a good day. But I thought, maybe, if Bruce knew that wasn't what I wanted, that maybe he'd...” Dick swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“You thought he'd kill the Joker.” Barbara's voice was still quiet. Dick had expected at least a little judgement by now.

“I couldn't just call him up and say 'Hey, Bruce, remember your dead kid?' He had to see me, run whatever tests he needed to. He had to trust that it really was me. So I tried to find work in the nearest city, scrape together enough money for papers and a flight home. Or whatever it took to get me back into the States. I almost had the money together, months later, but...” Dick didn't want to talk anymore. He hadn't had to think about this for a while. If only he'd let it stay that way.

Fortunately, Barbara was clever. Dick didn't need to spell it all out for her. She idly picked apart a piece of garlic bread, frowning as the gears in her brain turned and turned while she put the pieces together of her own accord.

“Batman had a new Robin close to a year after losing the first,” she murmured. “I remember Dad was worried for him. I can't imagine the news would've been pleasant for you.”

“I don't remember what happened next,” Dick admitted. “But I had to replace my computer the next day. And...” Did he want to tell her the rest, what he hadn't told the team? “And I woke up with stitches.” He traced the short scar that sat between a set of ribs over the heart, slightly to the left of his sternum. “Guess it's lucky the landlord and his wife used to work at the hospital.” That was the most he'd ever said about that. When he'd wanted to tell Wally, he'd just shown him the scar and mentioned it happened during his blackout. Wally hadn't pressed him.

Barbara was silent. Watching him. Dick didn't want to know what expression was on her face, so he just kept talking.

“Anyway, that kind of... made me doubt whether Bruce would actually...” But now Jason's words were in his mind. Should he tell her? Jason clearly hadn't thought so. He could just stop. Walk out. Barbara would let him. She knew enough to piece together why he hadn't been patrolling recently. He didn't need to—

Barbara leaned forward, against the table. “It's all right. You don't have to tell me everything if you don't want to.”

“I've done bad things,” Dick forced out. “I found weapons experts, got them to teach me what they knew, and then killed them. Filled in the holes Bruce left in my training. He gave me enough to understand various weapons and explosives, but not enough to build them or use them in a way that could kill people. Fair enough, I guess, since I was a kid at the time.”

“You convinced people to teach a young teenager about bombs?”

Dick shrugged but his heart wasn't in it. “I can be charming when I want to be.”

Barbara snorted, about as half-heartedly as Dick.

“I learned enough, put together enough resources, so last year I went back to Gotham. But I didn't tell Bruce I was back. I had other plans.” He was really doing this. Despite the vigilantism, Barbara believed deeply in the letter of the law, just like her father. She could tolerate vigilantes as long as they respected the legal process. Murder was one step too far. But he'd started now.

“What kind of plans?”

“I had all these grandiose ideas about controlling crime by taking over myself.” It had been way too ambitious for a fifteen-year-old—or anyone—but it had seemed like the best thing to do on the way to finally having his revenge. “I took over the drug trade in parts of the city and beat down the competition.”

And then Barbara narrowed her eyes. “You were a drug dealer?”

“Like I said, I thought it was better to control crime rather than trying to stop it from the outside,” Dick replied. “I did this all under an alias, obviously.”

Barbara rubbed her chin, then her mouth, those gears in her head turning so hard Dick could almost hear them click. “There was a new player in the Gotham city underground last year. The Red Hood. No one knew who he was.”

Dick threw his arms out to the side, another half-assed attempt at his usual dramatic flair. “You're looking at him.”

“You killed a lot of people.”

Dick dropped his arms, letting them bang limply against the sides of the chair. “I know.”

“Some of those people were innocent.”

“I know that, too.”

“Do you even feel bad about that?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Why didn't you turn yourself in?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Such as...?”

“It could compromise Batman and Robin's identities, for one.” Dick wasn't super interested in defending himself, but the question demanded an answer. “And Bruce would feel obligated to put up a legal defence for me, which could hurt his civilian identity as well, regardless of whether his lawyers got me off or not.”

“Oh, I'm sure it was completely selfless of you.”

“It wasn't really my decision.”

“ _Bruce_ chose this?”

Dick shrugged. “What use would it be to throw me in prison? Assuming I went to prison and not to a mental health facility instead. I would've been lucky to stay out of Arkham. Great idea, to put me in the same building as the guy I wanted dead. Out here, I can atone. Out here, I can use what I learned to stop more people from dying.” There was a thought tickling at the back of his mind, that maybe he should rot in a prison cell after everything he'd done. It was only right. He'd expect it of anyone else.

“You're not really selling it with that tone of voice.”

“I haven't exactly been of much use.” He'd spent more time fighting his own demons than fighting crime. “Any information I gained from the drug operation went out of date months ago.”

“Do you still want the Joker dead?”

“I don't think those feelings are going away,” Dick admitted. “But I'm done trying to kill him myself. He's not worth giving up everything I've rebuilt.”

“But you have tried to kill him.”

“You already know this.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Fine. I wanted Batman involved. Ideally, I wanted him to kill the Joker, or at least allow me to do it. So I set up a situation which forced him to choose between my life or the Joker's. After beating the bastard liberally with a crowbar, of course.”

“And Batman outsmarted you.”

“Obviously. Maybe if I'd been thinking straight, I would've had a better chance, but...” He had to laugh. Darkly. “I did have a backup plan. I just didn't bank on Bruce throwing me out a window seconds before the bomb went off.”

“Bruce loves you,” Barbara said. “You have to know that.”

“How well I know it depends on the day.”

“That doesn't change—”

“I thought it was obvious that I'm an extremely fucked-up person, Barbara.”

“You've been through a lot.”

“No shit.”

“I can't condone what you've done.”

“I'm not asking you to.”

“But I...” Barbara let out a long sigh. “Look, you know me. I can tolerate vigilantes—and, well, I am one now so it'd be hypocritical anyway—but murder is beyond—”

“We've established that.”

Barbara held up her hand. “Let me finish.” She shoved the cold remnants of the garlic bread in Dick's direction. “And eat something, for God's sake.” She didn't keep talking until Dick had eaten another piece. “You're trying to do better. The fact you haven't been able to atone the way you wanted isn't your fault, but you've got plenty of time for that. As long as you're no longer a threat, I don't think it's necessary to tell my dad.”

“That sounds a lot like favouritism, Miss By-The-Book.” Dick wasn't in the right mood to make it funny, but he tried. Even if all he wanted to do was cry himself into a stupor instead.

“Shut up.”

Dick's answering laugh sounded far too close to a sob for his liking. He breathed. “Heh. There was more I wanted to tell you, but...”

All the severity melted out of Barbara's face. “It's all right. You don't need to.” Her hand inched up to her communicator. “I can call Bruce, get him to take you home.”

Dick breathed. He nodded. Barbara made the call.

When it was done, Barbara scrunched up the garlic bread packaging. “I owe you a hug. When you're feeling up to it.”

“I will actually have a breakdown if you do it now.”

“Next time I see you, then.” She threw the wrapping into the pizza box. “And if you want to tell me anything else later, I'm happy to listen. Just not now. We don't need to make you actually have that breakdown.”

“It's gonna happen later tonight.” Dick huffed a small laugh; anything bigger held danger. “Good luck, Wally.”

Silence hung between them. Batman was on the opposite end of the city and would need time to reach them.

“It's been rough,” Dick admitted quietly. “I thought I'd hit my limit when the Joker came after me again, but...”

“Skinner had to make things worse.”

Dick nodded. “You know, the Joker brought the Injustice League back together just to keep the actual League distracted long enough to capture the team when we were following a lead on his whereabouts. That's how I broke my ankle. And how I...” Despite his mood, the awkwardness of what he was about to say forced a laugh out of him. “Well, I thought I was going to die afterwards so, uh, told Wally I loved him.”

“That's both romantic and depressing.”

“He's the reason I'm still here,” Dick told her. “So many times, I've just wanted to give up, especially after Skinner. Fucker recognised me from the last time he had me. Went after me specifically.”

“I figured as much.” Barbara crossed to the sink, filling a pair of chipped mugs with water. She passed one to Dick.

“Thanks.” A few sips, and his head already felt clearer. And he remembered the whole point to having this conversation. “I worry about you, out in the field.”

Barbara settled back in her seat, pointedly slamming her cup down. “I'm a big girl, Dick. I can handle myself.”

“I know. But it's still a shock to the system, being a vigilante. Especially in Gotham.” It was easier to watch his own fingers tracing a particularly large chip in the rim of his mug than look at her. “You were one of my best friends in civilian life. And I... know the price of recklessness. Maybe you don't think that's what you're doing, but you've been shot so many times recently and it's scaring me.”

“I'm finding my feet,” Barbara said gently. “I'll be fine. You don't need to worry so much.”

“I worry about Jason, too. He went after Harley last year. Nearly killed him.”

“Did you give him this talk?”

“I mainly just yelled at him and kicked his ass. Literally.”

“Did it work?”

Dick shrugged. “He's been more careful since then, so probably?”

Barbara chuckled, draining the last few drops of her cup. She rinsed the both of them out in the sink. Dick sat with his chin in his hand. There were more things he wanted to say, just bubbling inside him. But he wasn't sure he could let them out in his state without bringing on a state that would take him possibly hours to ease out.

Batman would be here soon. It was now or never.

“After Skinner...” He cleared his throat. “After what happened at school...”

Barbara set the mugs down gently. “Yes?”

Dick had to swallow. Breathe. This was one of his best friends. She'd listened to him talk about murdering people and cutting himself a slice of the drug trade. Of all the things to turn her away, this wouldn't be it. So he said it.

“I tried to kill myself.”

“I was worried something like that had happened,” Barbara said quietly, sitting back down. She was hunched forward, hands resting on the table close enough to grab if Dick could handle the contact. He couldn't. But it was nice to have the offer there.

“Maybe it sounds weird to ask this now...” Dick fought to ignore the little voice in the back of his mind telling him it was a ridiculous question. “But. Everything that happened with Skinner, everything I said... you believe me, right?”

Barbara didn't bat an eye, much less laugh like he'd (foolishly) feared. “Yes. I believe you.”

Dick let his eyes close. “Thank you. It's just... he said some stuff. It got to me. And. You know. Last time I was allowed near sharp objects for weeks.”

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better. I'm in therapy. The nightmares are hell on earth most nights, but Bruce is chill about Wally staying over to help me through them.”

Batman's voice crackled in their ears. “Handling a mugging two streets south. Meet me there.”

“Gotcha,” Dick said, reaching for his mask. “Thanks for listening, Barb.” His smile was too wide, twisted at the corner with tears that he absolutely was not going to shed right now.

“Thanks for trusting me.” Barbara felt around the back of her neck for the cowl, finding it after a few seconds. “If you ever want to talk about any of this, I'll listen. Maybe I can help in ways the people who know it all inside-out can't.”

Dick wanted to hug her, but that wasn't a great idea when his head felt like a sack of broken glass. So he smiled at her, pushed his mask back on and headed out to meet Batman, who had already finished defusing the situation and called the police by the time they got there.

* * *

Batgirl and Robin patrolled together while Batman—Bruce—drove Dick home. Dick... wasn't up to talking. Bruce asked if he felt sick and handed him a water bottle. That was the extent of their conversation.

There was a hot bath waiting in one of the batcave's bathrooms. Dick lay in there for a while, just breathing. Something inside him was shaking and the threat of tears still loomed. The bath did little to relax him, mainly because he wasn't in the right state to let it. He curled up in the little nest in the batcave nook, completely wrung out.

“Want company?” came Wally's voice from the other side of the curtain that had been installed for privacy some time ago.

Dick didn't want to talk, but how else could he answer without physically moving? “Fine.”

Wally slipped past the curtain, gently placing his bag on the floor by the bed. “How'd it go?”

Dick didn't know how to answer without speaking so he just shifted backwards in bed to give Wally room to climb in. He pressed his face into Wally's chest as soon as he had.

“Did she take it well?”

Dick nodded, but threw in a shrug. She was understanding of the situation, but clearly unhappy, even if she set it aside for Dick's sake right in the moment.

“Did you get to the Red Hood?”

He nodded.

“And she took that, like, semi-well. If that's what you meant.”

Dick nodded.

Wally shifted a hand to Dick's back, pressing gently. “Do you think you'll sleep tonight?”

Dick shrugged.

“Wanna stay up for a bit? I brought my laptop if you wanna watch a movie.”

Dick nodded, so Wally leaned backwards, just enough to reach his bag, and grabbed his computer. “Barry says this one's hilarious, and he'd had a shit day when it saw it. I think a murderer the CCPD had been chasing killed someone else and they didn't get there in time to stop it. But, anyway, good movie for taking your mind off things, apparently.”

The movie was okay. Dick wasn't in the kind of mood that could be shaken off by a few funny moments. Wally switched it off halfway through and put on another, one that didn't require as much from the audience to be entertaining. Comedy movies were exhausting when watched at the wrong time.

The second movie had enough funny moments to keep it from getting too dark, and required a little cerebral activity. Trying to solve the mystery before the protagonist did was entertaining in its own right.

“He just discovered something,” Dick said as the protagonist was shown for a second, leaning down and moving his arm. “It's in his pocket now. Guess it'll be important later, but they're deliberately obscuring what the hell it was. That's one way to stop us from figuring it out first, I guess.”

Of course, the mystery was solved at the end with a nice little montage of all those moments the protagonist discovered clues throughout the movie. It was like the writers were playing at writing a mystery, but didn't have a great grasp on how to keep it unpredictable without obscuring information that probably should've been given to the audience in the first place. It was still entertaining, if a little undercooked.

“You hated that,” Wally said, closing his laptop.

“Not really. It was just obvious the movie was aimed at people more interested in character relationships than the mystery. At least we didn't watch the sequel because I'm not in the mood for Romani stereotypes right now.”

“Oh, yeah. Arty was complaining about that last year when she and Zee saw it.”

“She sent me a novel-length text message about it,” Dick replied. “In short, she told me it wasn't worth watching.”

“And she threatened to disembowel me if I took you to see it.”

“It's how she shows she cares.”

Wally chuckled. “Oh, I know that too well.” He drummed his fingers on the top of his closed laptop. “Can you sleep? Or did you want to stay up longer?”

“My eyes feel like sandpaper.”

“Is that a vote for sleep?”

Dick pinched him. “Yes.”

“Ow.” Wally set the laptop aside. “Come here, then.”

Dick settled himself into Wally's arms. The weather was getting warmer, but the cave was always cool. They had too many delicate instruments down here to risk too much heat.

The Joker was back in Dick's dreams tonight.

_The crowbar. The bomb. But the bomb didn't kill him_ _, even as it stripped flesh from his bones and shattered those bones into pieces_ _. There was laughter in his head as his body stitched itself back together, the bones of his hand visibly snapping into place in front of his eyes. That horrific painted smile leaned in close,_ _those laughs_ _tainting his words as he spoke:_

“ _Hoo boy. I should've done this sooner. Years I've wasted, begging the big, bad Bat to understand me. And here you were, all along, ripe for the picking. Just a little push, and you_ get it _.” The Joker held up a hand mirror to Dick's face, a stretched smile of his own marring his features, skin painted white, eyes tinged green. It was him, but it wasn't._

_He laughed._

And he woke, flat on his back and blood pounding in his ears. The light was on, Wally sitting by his side, watching him.

Wally was curled in on himself, knees to chest, chin to knees. “I tried to wake you, but...” He let out a shaky breath. “Joker?”

Dick nodded. Breathed.

“You were laughing. Like him.”

Again. It surfaced every now and then, a bad habit he just couldn't shake. On the worst days, he feared opening his mouth.

“It... sticks in my head sometimes.” Dick's voice was hoarse, as if he'd been screaming. Maybe he had. “The first memory I got back after the Pit. And it just... won't leave me alone. Don't tell Bruce.”

“Cross my heart. Have you told Dinah it happens?”

“Fuck no.”

“You should.” Wally's face was too tight, eyes too wide, for Dick to say no to him.

“Next time I see her, I promise.” Dick dragged himself into a sitting position. No fucking way was he getting more sleep tonight. “Go back to sleep. I'm not going anywhere.”

“If you're awake, I'm awake.”

“Don't martyr yourself on my account. You've got exams coming up. Go to sleep.”

“I can't.” Wally was still curled into a ball, white-knuckled hands clasped around his legs.

“Wally...”

He shook his head, fast enough to blur. “Really. I...” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “There's no way I can go back to sleep after that.”

Dick's stomach ached, spreading up to his chest. “Sorry.”

“Don't.” Wally's voice cracked. “Just... don't.”

The ache had spread to Dick's throat. He hadn't cried yet, despite how close he'd come in Barbara's presence. Maybe now was the time.

Wally's hand was shaking as he grasped Dick's. “Babe. No. It's okay.”

Dick closed his eyes. It was bad enough when just one of them was upset. Both at once was...

“I'd like to be alone,” he murmured. He couldn't give Wally any comfort. Wally couldn't give him any, either. He couldn't put both of them through this when neither was capable of handling it.

“Not like this,” Wally whispered. “Please. Let me just...” He swallowed loudly. Let out a heavy breath. “Let me.”

So Wally stayed. Held Dick's hand. Let him cry. Hid his own face against his knees for a few minutes here and there, as if to spare Dick the sight of his own pain.

* * *

Dick needed a few days to level out. He didn't miss the way everyone watched him, like they expected him to combust. He spoke with Barbara a few more times, about little things like weather and training. She looked at him the same, like she could sense something had gone sideways inside him.

But a week and one session with Dinah later, he'd found some stability again, enough that Wally could focus on his studying. Well, when Dick wasn't distracting him in other ways.

“You're a bad influence,” Wally said breathlessly one afternoon, playing with the ends of Dick's hair.

Dick lifted his head from Wally's chest, grinning. “You're older.”

“You're smarter.”

“Only when it's convenient for you.” Dick sighed, slumping back down, wrinkling the bedsheets on the way. “Besides, we already went through your flashcards. This was your reward for doing well.”

“If you think I'm that easily influenced—actually, yeah, you're right.” Wally's hand migrated to the base of Dick's skull, rubbing his fingers in small circles. Dick closed his eyes and let his body loosen.

“Keep doing that and you can say anything you like about me.”

Lips pressed against the top of Dick's head. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you big sap.”

“I was worried about you.”

“I know.”

Wally shifted his fingers to Dick's neck, massaging the muscles on either side of his spine. “Did Dinah help?”

“Mm-hm.” Dick couldn't nod, so he had to make a noise instead. “She agrees it's because the Joker's laugh was the first memory I got back. It's not like I'm going to turn into him. Which sounds ridiculous, but, you know, dreams are weird like that. It doesn't happen often, so she's hopeful it'll go away with time. The less I have to deal with the Joker, the better, obviously.”

“I don't want him near you anyway.”

“At least it took my mind off everything else.”

“Well, they say every cloud has a silver lining.”

Dick hefted himself up by Wally's shoulders, and kissed him again. He'd lost count of how many times they'd kissed in the past hour. Hundreds, at least.

“I really should get back to studying,” Wally murmured against his lips.

“You should.” Dick didn't move away.

“It's been an hour.” Wally didn't move, either.

“It has.”

Wally groaned and slipped his arms around Dick's waist, capturing his mouth again. Dick settled himself into the other boy's lap, fists clenched in the neck of his t-shirt. Wally crushed him close, letting Dick's tongue past his lips, when:

Wally's phone rang.

Wally pulled back, grumbling, and answered it. “Yeah?” Then his voice shifted, friendlier. “Hey, Uncle Barry. What's up?” Then serious. “Downtown? Uh, sure. I'll be there.” He hung up. “Sorry, babe.”

Dick climbed off him. “Duty calls?”

“Captain Cold.”

“Haven't heard from him in a while.”

“Yeah.” Wally rolled his eyes, stumbling out of bed. “Don't know how long it'll take. Depends on how chatty Barry's feeling today.”

“So, see you at dinner, then?”

“Oh, ha ha.” Wally dug his costume out of his bag. “I need to get one of the Flash's costume rings. Honestly.” He pecked Dick on the cheek. “I'll see you later.” He zoomed out of the room.

Dick fell back on the pillows, loose-limbed and content despite the interruption. Wally hadn't patrolled much with Barry of late, between studying for finals and being there for Dick. It'd do him good to get back out there.

Besides, Dick had something he wanted to do.

He took a few minutes to breathe himself calm, before heading out towards his old room, deliberately slowing his steps to keep his heart rate down. He had to keep it under control for as long as possible, give himself the best chance of following through.

His heart jumped as he stepped into the final hallway. His room was right at the end, across from Jason's. Dick kept his fingers pressed to the wall, just barely, enough to keep him moving forward. His hand found Jason's door, shoulder pressing against the wall as if he was trying to put as much distance between himself and his old room as possible.

It was right there, looking exactly the same as the last time he'd tried this.

Dick knocked on Jason's door. They hadn't spoken muchsince the last time, but that was probably for the best. The tension stretched between them, pulled taut by all the things they needed to say. Maybe now would be the time... assuming Dick could handle his room.

The door creaked open and Jason stuck his head out. “Yeah?”

The words dissolved right on Dick's tongue. His jerked his head in the direction of his room. Jason got the message, stepping into the hallway with him.

“Wanna do the honours?” Jason asked as they crossed the few feet of distance.

Dick took a deep breath and placed his hand on the doorknob. His fingers twitched, but he couldn't bring himself to finish the job. Jason placed his hand on top and, together, they turned. The door fall open.

The first thing the door revealed was the wall panel that had covered the window on the other end of the room. Somehow, despite what both Bruce and Jason had told him before, he'd half-expected to find an open window, lock obliterated, and billowing curtains. He used to read in the seat by the window, a way to relax after a long week. Just one more thing that had been taken away from him.

The door soon opened enough to draw Dick's attention to the bed. He vaguely felt Jason step inside, but his focus had snapped tight. The covers were different. The mattress didn't look quite right. Had they replaced it, too?

As if sensing Dick's question, Jason said, “The police took the sheets for evidence and Alfred replaced the mattress as soon as they let him. The pillows, too. It's all new.”

The frame was the same, of course. The damn thing was an antique. But everything Skinner had touched was gone. Except Dick.

He managed one step closer, before his feet nailed themselves to the floor. If he could just stop focusing on the bed, maybe he could...

But he couldn't stop. The memories were there, drumming on the inside of his skull. Skinner's breath, hot on his ear.

“ _That's right. Good boy.”_

No. It was over. Skinner was in jail. Justice had been served and there was nothing that man could do to hurt him ever again. He didn't have to silently tolerate it out for fear for his family's lives anymore. Jason was right there. He was fine. Alfred was alive and well convincing Bruce to take a break from work to have a snack in the batcave.

Dick leaned down, pressed his hand into the sheets, the mattress. They were all new. Never used. The memories were just memories.

“Weird being back here,” Jason said, tapping his fingers against the new wall panel.

Dick straightened. “Yeah. Weird.” Like the room belonged to a dead person. Dick rubbed his wrists, willing himself to remember the pressure he felt on them was just a flashback.

He sat on the bed. It was daylight. He was with Jason. The manor was more secure than it had ever been.

Jason joined him. “Feeling okay?”

Dick shrugged.

“Are you... back there?”

Dick nodded.

Jason offered his hand, which Dick took and squeezed. “It's in the past, Dick. They're in jail. They're never getting near you ever again.”

Dick let his eyes wander across the rest of the room. His old desk, still covered with bits and pieces of tech. The Flying Graysons poster on the wall. The anniversary for that was coming up soon. He'd have to ask someone to take him down to the cemetery. His wardrobe was securely shut in a way it never had been when he'd been living in here. It always creaked open when Wally sped past it.

He couldn't stop thinking, though. Could he sleep in here again? It was hard enough to be in here in the daylight. How would he cope at night?

Skinner's presence was suffocating.

“You don't have to stay here if it's hard,” Jason said. He tugged on Dick's hand. “Come on.”

Dick let him lead him out, vaguely aware of the _snick_ of the door closing. He ended up on Jason's bed while his brother shut his own door. The whole ordeal left Dick feeling hollowed-out, shaken. But he'd done it. Even if he was on the verge of tears all over again.

Jason hugged him, which, of course, opened up the floodgates. Jason stiffened for a moment, but didn't let go.

“Bastard's lucky he's in jail,” he muttered, “or I'd rip him apart myself.”

Dick chuckled wetly against his brother's shoulder.

“Seriously.” Jason patted his back “Bare hands and all.”

Dick wiped his eyes, sitting back, but not so far that Jason would stop hugging him. “Thanks, dude.”

“Least I could do, since... you know.” Jason glared down at the floor.

“It's not your fault they took me, Jay.”

“Damn well feels like it.”

“You know they threatened to kill you if I tried to call for help.”

“I know.”

“No one blames you for what happened. Point me to anyone does and I'll kick their ass because I'm the goddamn authority on the matter.” At least needing to comfort someone else helped Dick pull himself back together.

“I dream about it sometimes, you know.” Jason still wasn't making eye contact. “Like, what they could've been doing to you while I slept. What must've happened before we found you. I haven't... told anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Didn't want to draw attention away from you.”

“Jason.” Dick wanted to shake him. He made do with gripping him tighter instead.

“The whole thing fucked you up and you needed everyone's undivided attention.” Jason shoved his face against Dick's shoulder, squeezing him hard. “What did a few dreams matter compared to everything you were going through?”

“People are capable of caring about more than one thing at once, Jay.”

Jason shrugged. “Maybe I didn't want you worrying about me.”

“Well, you failed. The only reason I didn't press the issue more was because I didn't feel up to it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. You're allowed to be messed up over this. And we're talking now, aren't we?”

Jason nodded, rumpling Dick's shirt a little in the process. “I had a pretty good idea what they were doing to you.”

“I guess it was obvious.”

“No, I mean...” Jason pulled away. Stood up. Drummed his fingers on his desk. “You know my mother was an addict, right? And we didn't have much money. Sometimes you have to make hard decisions.”

Like selling sex as an underage boy just to get enough money to eat. “Oh, Jay.”

“Bruce knows.” He laughed, bitter. “I thought I was over it.”

“And then stuff happened to me.”

Jason made some kind of noise in his throat, which Dick took to mean agreement. A strange kind of silence fell, heavy with things that needed to be said but were just out of Dick's reach.

“Have you had therapy?”

Jason shook his head. “Didn't want it.”

“Maybe it'd help.”

“I guess. Seems to help you.”

“Exactly. You could talk to Dinah. Or someone else.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Maybe they can help you work out the guilt thing, too.”

“Yeah.”

Dick had to go to him, read his body language, touch his shoulder when he didn't put his guard up. “Thank you for telling me. You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

Jason shook his head. “I don't think either of us are up to that.”

“Well, if that changes, you know where to find me. Usually.”

Jason squeezed the hand on his shoulder. “You think I'm projecting on you? Like, with the guilt thing?”

“Maybe. I'm not a shrink.”

“Sounds smart, though.”

“Yeah.”

“I'll work on it,” Jason promised. “And, you know, if you need someone with you next time you try your room...”

“Thanks. Maybe it'll be easier now. Like ripping off a band-aid.”

Jason snorted. “Right. Like a band-aid.”

The hung out a while longer, speaking little, until Wally was back and Dick felt strong enough to walk past his bedroom door without crumbling. But he'd done it. Gone back to his room. Spoken to Jason. There was new understanding between them now, with that painful secret out in the open. If they couldn't talk to anyone else about it, they had each other. When they were both ready to handle it.


	45. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick visits his family's graves on the anniversary of the Flying Graysons' demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not plan to be away this long. Part of it has to do with general exhaustion, and also the fact I'm replanning the direction of this fic. Still got more to do on that front.
> 
> Trigger warnings: none that I can think of, really. It's a pretty chill chapter, some references to Dick's PTSD.

Dick went back to his room every so often—usually to grab something in there rather than have someone else fetch it for him—but rarely lingered. He didn't have to rush this. Whether all at once or little-by-little, he was still regaining the space he had lost.

He made a special effort on the anniversary of his family's deaths. Their poster still hung in the room. It didn't feel right to move it. So he sat on the bed, bundle of white roses cut from the garden in his hand. He used to talk to the poster as if it were a conduit to wherever they were now. Closest thing he had to the real thing, aside from the cold headstones that marked their final resting place.

Wally found him after school had let out, leaning against the doorframe; he rarely came in here if he could help it. “Need a minute?”

Dick let out a long breath. “Let's go.” Staying in this room wasn't going to make him feel better. This was an old hurt, more of a dull ache than a sharp pain. Maybe one day, far off in the future, it would ache less than it did even now. Hard to say, given the way Bruce as an adult was still affected by losing his parents.

The man in question drove them to the cemetery. For all the sadness of the occasion, there was something comforting in the routine of it all. For someone who didn't put much stock in routines, Dick seemed to have a lot of them.

“I can't believe it's been a year already,” Wally murmured as Dick led him down the neat little rows of tombstones and statues. Bruce followed at a respectful distance.

“I'm just amazed I'm not dead,” Dick admitted.

He located his family's row. Time had weathered his uncle's tombstone, but it was still notably younger than the others. Dick planted a rose on every grave like he usually did before slipping the rest of the bouquet into the little metal vase built into his mother's stone. Before the addition of Uncle Rick, she and Aunt Karla had shared the centre so Bruce had arranged to have her stone come with an inbuilt flower vase.

Dick stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. The air still had a wintery bite and clouds blanketed the sky, filtering the sunlight until it was steely and cold. Drops of rain darkened the headstones here and there, not yet enough to warrant rushing for cover.

“Sorry I haven't visited much,” Dick said. It still felt weird addressing the headstones, but they were called headstones for a reason. They were the only physical indicator his family was here, so they would have to do. It wasn't any weirder than speaking to the poster in his room.

It was just as well Wally had seen him do this before, the April before he died and everything went to shit. Wally and Barbara were the only people outside the family Dick had allowed to come with him on an anniversary like this. It was too personal to share with most people, and the whole _talking to his dead family_ thing was hard to explain.

“It's been rough,” he told his family. Wally was a comforting presence by his side. “Things are getting better, though. Skinner and his friends are in jail now. Joker's quiet. I'm patrolling again and just got cleared for team missions.” It would take time for him to get back to his peak, but he was getting there.

Sometimes the anniversary could be hard. The most draining moment of the year. Maybe it was because he'd just come out of a whole series of events that were both draining and downright fucking traumatic, but he felt relatively okay in the here and now.

Dick braved the cold to reach out and squeeze Wally's hand. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Any time,” Wally said quietly, his eyes on the headstones. “Are you okay?”

“I think so, yeah.” Dick let out a long breath, which misted in the air. “I'm gonna have some time to myself on the trapeze, if that's all right.” Some anniversaries, he couldn't stand the sight of the thing. Others, he needed it like air. It was as close as he could get to having the Flying Graysons with him again.

“Of course it's all right.” Wally squeezed his hand. “I'll be near if you need me.”

Dick smiled at him, before addressing his family one last time. “See? I'm still being looked after. Uncle Rick used to worry about that.”

He said his goodbyes, promising to come back next year like always—barring the years he'd been away—and he and Wally returned to the car. Bruce drove them back without speaking. The understanding Bruce and Dick had went beyond words at this point. Dick probably could've found some if pressed, but it wasn't necessary.

Bruce triple-checked the trapeze rigging before he let Dick get near the thing. As if Dick wasn't about to do the same. Today of all days was not the time to get complacent. Fate could be downright fickle at the best of times.

Dick felt lighter once he was finally swinging. Today was fairly good was far as anniversaries went, but it still weighed on him and likely always would.

He kept things simple at first, gradually building up the difficulty. He hadn't tried a quadruple somersault since returning to the trapeze, but it felt right today. So he did it, the memory of his parents' pride the first time he performed it for them filling his body with warmth.

He didn't attempt it again. Once was enough for today.

By the time he finished, he was breathing hard and drenched in sweat. His body was heavy and tired in that satisfied way that only came after intense hard work.

Alfred had run him a bath upstairs. Wally was reading study notes in the study connected to the batcave entrance, so Dick ran into him on the way.

“You look like you've been swimming, babe.”

Dick laughed, still a little breathless. “It's fashion, Walls. You wouldn't understand.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on Wally's cheek. “Wanna visit the team later?”

“Are you up to it?”

“I'm in a cuddle pile kind of mood.”

Wally caught his hand, kissing his knuckles. “I'll make the arrangements.”

Dick headed off for his bath.

* * *

To say the team hadn't exactly expected Dick to visit today would have been an understatement. To be fair, Dick hadn't either. But here he was, materialising into Mount Justice after Wally and before Jason, who followed as soon as he was out of the way.

M'gann, as usual, was the first to greet them. Dick may have held onto her hug just a touch longer than he normally would. It was still a rough day, even if it was better than expected.

“How are you?” M'gann asked, giving him a squeeze before they finally separated. “I wasn't sure you were coming today. I made a batch of cookies without burning them.”

“I'm all right. We should grab some cookies before Wally steals them all.”

“I'll give you a ten-second head start,” said Wally. M'gann flew on ahead, Dick and Jason following at a more reasonable pace. Half the cookies were already gone, claimed by the rest of the team who lingered in the kitchen.

“Where's your other half?” Artemis asked as Dick reached past her to get to the tray.

“Giving us a head start before he eats everything in sight.” Dick passed Jason a cookie and then grabbed one for himself.

Wally shoved three cookies into his mouth mere seconds after he joined them. Raquel elbowed him out of the way and took another. No one had mentioned the date, but Dick knew Dinah had spoken to the team about it. Still, the normality was as comforting to him as an outright heart-to-heart would have been.

“Is there training on later?” Jason asked, pushing Wally's face away while he grabbed a cookie himself.

“If there is, I'm kicking your butt,” Wally complained.

“There is,” Zatanna confirmed. “Better start running, Jason.”

Dick distinctly saw Kaldur and Conner look at each other and roll their eyes good-naturedly from their seats near the television.

“Somehow I get the feeling you're all on your best behaviour,” Dick said. “And that worries me.”

“Normally you're the bad influence,” said Zatanna.

“Don't encourage me.”

M'gann pulled a second batch of cookies out of the oven. “They're still hot. Please don't eat them yet.”

“Challenge accepted,” said Wally.

“No,” Artemis replied.

“Go ahead,” Dick said. “Burn your face off. It'll cheer me up.”

Wally crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath.

“Wow,” said Zatanna. “You play dirty. Not that I'm all that surprised.”

“The one upside to shitty situations is the ability to make other people uncomfortable at will.”

Wally snorted. “Babe, you've tried it on me so many times I barely even feel it anymore.”

“So you claim,” said Artemis.

Raquel took the first cookie off the tray, blew on it and shoved it in her mouth. Wally clutched his chest in mock betrayal.

“You snooze, you lose.”

They then proceeded to fight over the tray. The rest of them left them to it, sitting on the couches with Conner and Kaldur. Conner had been watching the television static again.

“I thought Batman didn't want you carrying guns,” Zatanna said, poking the muscles in Dick's arm.

Dick lifted the arm and flexed. “Sorry. Forgot to leave them at home.”

Artemis reached over and shoved his arm back down. “I did not ask for tickets to the gun show, thanks.” Then a smirk came over her. “Well, more like half a pistol show, but...”

“Rude.”

“That's what I'm here for.”

Zatanna reached over Dick to poke her in the chest. “ _Anyway_... you had that talk with Barbara, right?”

“Ages ago,” Dick replied. “Kinda forgot to tell you guys.”

“I did it for you,” Jason said, holding his hand out as Raquel passed him. She gave him a cookie. “Are there even any left?”

Wally laughed loudly from the kitchen. Dick took that as a no.

“She's been pretty quiet,” said Artemis.

“I gave her a lot to think about.”

“You told her everything?”

“She deserved to know.”

“Yeah, but that's _a lot_ to take in at once.”

“I know.” It was a lot for Dick to take in, and he'd lived it. He and Barbara had texted here and there since their conversation, but they hadn't actually spoken about it. She had been kind to him that night, so he wasn't too worried at the time.

“She's your best friend,” Wally said, finally abandoning the kitchen to join everyone else. “Well, aside from me. And you said she took it pretty well on the night.”

“Time can change things,” Dick replied.

“Somehow, I don't think it will.”

“Wally's got a point,” Artemis said. “She's not the kind of person who would hide that from you. If she's pissed, she will tell you.”

“You could always ask her when she gets here,” said Zatanna.

“I would rather hide forever, thanks,” said Dick.

“The mighty Nightwing,” Wally narrated. “Jumps off buildings for fun, terrified of teenage girls.”

“We surrounded by terrifying girls on a daily basis.”

“That's the smartest thing you've ever said,” Raquel told him.

The zeta tube chose that moment to announce Barbara's arrival. Dick wasn't exactly ready to face her yet. If there was a problem, maybe she'd go easy on him knowing what day it was.

M'gann flew out to meet her.

“I do not believe her to be angry with you,” Kaldur assured him. “She has asked after you on multiple occasions.”

M'gann brought Barbara into the sitting area. Barbara was in civvies like the rest of them. They'd change for training soon.

Barbara said her hellos to the group at large before leaning over the back of the couch to hug Dick from behind. “I wasn't sure you'd be here. Did you visit your family? Are you okay?”

Dick squeezed her arm, smiling up at her. “Yeah, I brought them flowers earlier. I'm okay.”

Barbara rested her chin on the top of his head, her voice vibrating through him as she spoke. “I've been thinking about what you said. It took me some time to get my head around it, but we're cool.”

“That seems a little too easy.”

She punched his shoulder. “Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I've got your back.”

“Told you so,” said Wally.

“We _all_ told you so,” Artemis added.

Dick rolled his eyes at them. “Forgive me for not expecting everyone to be cool with the whole killing people thing.”

“Because no one in the Justice League has _ever_ killed someone before,” said Artemis. Dick could actually taste the sarcasm.

“Let's not do this,” he said tiredly. He could've mentioned that his body count was probably higher than whichever Leaguer's name she picked to prove her point, but he didn't want to talk about it anymore. So Barbara was still his friend. He wasn't keen to give her a chance to change her mind. Plus, that aside, this whole topic of conversation wasn't exactly his favourite thing in the first place.

He must've sounded really bad, because Kaldur hastened to change the subject.

“I believe we may have a mission this weekend.” He smiled up at Barbara. “Perhaps this could be your first.”

Kaldur didn't say these things unless he was fairly certain they were true. Dick wasn't sure if Batman would let him come along, even though he had been declared fit for duty.

“Any details?” Barbara asked.

“Black Canary told me it is out of the country. Batman has yet to provide details.”

They changed into costume for training shortly thereafter, which always served to lift Dick's mood. Apparently this day was making him sensitive, even if he was doing better than he had in the past. Win some, lose some.

They assembled in the main chamber just as Black Canary materialised in the zeta tube. “Warm up. Batman is coming to observe.”

Bruce hadn't bothered telling either of his kids, of course. That was just par for the course.

The team had just paired up for sparring practice when the zeta tube hummed to life, delivering Batman into the chamber. He hung back while Canary directed the team to keep training.

Nightwing had drawn the short straw and ended up with Kid Flash. He was always a pain in the ass to fight, especially while he was still developing, which meant his powers weren't always exactly the same. Nightwing would need some time to figure out his patterns before he could take him down. It'd start getting easier soon, though, since the guy couldn't possibly have much more growing left in him.

There were a few things about Kid Flash's powers that remained the same. He was slower than the Flash. He was more liable to trip over his own feet. There was the occasional inconsistency in his vibrations that affected his speed, probably owing to his imperfect replication of Barry's experiment. And it was very difficult to change directions at speed. Dick just had to figure out his path and disrupt it to send him crashing to the floor.

Kid Flash blew past him, a streak of colour and wind. He set a direction to land a hit, but Nightwing moved just enough that the blow missed. Reset. Another blur. Nightwing shifted, elbow raised in time to connect with Kid Flash's chin. The impact jolted through both their bodies, but Nightwing had been prepared. Kid Flash fell on his ass, dazed. It didn't always work out that way. A slight miscalculation and their positions would've been reversed.

Kid Flash shook his head clear and grinned. “You still haven't told me how you do that.”

Nightwing pulled him to his feet. “A magician never reveals his tricks. Batman taught me and that's all you're getting.”

“Try and get me again. I dare you.”

“You're on.”

Kid Flash managed to get the better of him this time, adjusting his path just in time to set Nightwing off-balance. The next time he tried that, though, both of them went down.

Nightwing, sandwiched between KF and the floor, couldn't hold back a shocked laugh. “Well. That happened.”

Kid Flash rolled off him, snickering. “So, technically we both won. And lost.”

Batgirl pinned Zatanna to the floor after dodging a spell. “Teach me how to do that, 'Wing. I mean, once you've stopped failing at it.”

Nightwing snorted. “Cute.” He picked himself up.

“There are easier ways to take him down,” Artemis said, poking a bruise blossoming on her arm from her fight with Aqualad. “Just take your shirt off. Worked for me.”

Dick laughed his ass off as Wally's face went red. He caught a tiny hint of a smile on Batman's face.

* * *

The team showered—Dick freshened up with a washcloth instead—and dressed down into civvies before returning to the main chamber. Batman had brought the holocomputer online, with pictures and chunks of text that meant nothing to anyone but him yet.

“I don't know what the mission is,” Barbara told Dick, “but apparently I'm sleeping over at your house for the weekend, starting tonight. Or, well, that's the cover story anyway. Dad says hi.”

They gathered around, while Batman brought up an aerial photograph of a building surrounded by snow. “Ra's al Ghul has taken over a compound in Northern Canada. I have yet to discover his purpose for this location. Long-distance recon attempts have been unsuccessful. I need the team to infiltrate the compound and gather information. Avoid engagement if possible.” There was an amused quirk to his mouth that indicated he doubted the team could do that. To be fair, most of their covert missions did end with something blowing up.

The team shared a look that was only slightly guilty.

Batman brought up another image, lower to the ground, with some kind of turret just visible through the snow flurries. “Automated defences, possible thermal imaging, which may detect the bioship even while cloaked. You will have to enter on foot in small groups at these locations.” More images. “I will send the map data to your devices.”

He divided the team into three squads. Aqualad, Batgirl, Zatanna and Artemis were alpha. Miss Martian, Nightwing and Kid Flash were beta. Superboy, Robin and Rocket were gamma.

“I have updated your cold weather gear, which should allow you to withstand the temperatures for longer periods of time. The Justice League is investigating another location nearby so we will be available if the threat is worse than anticipated.”

Black Canary had been hovering near the zeta tubes. “You leave early tomorrow morning. If you can, I would advise sleeping here tonight. Rest up. We'll see you off before we leave for our own mission.” She left via the zeta tube and Batman took Dick aside.

“Black Canary assures me you're ready for team missions,” he said. Dick's fitness scores were back within acceptable parameters and he had been handling Gotham patrols perfectly well. Batman knew this already, but he was not as keen to put Dick back in the field as Dinah was.

“I am.”

“I'll be close if there are any problems.”

“I know,” Dick replied. “You told us.”

“If you spot either of the al Ghuls, tell me immediately.”

“We will.”

“And—”

“B. I'll be fine.”

Batman put his hands on Dick's shoulders, squeezing them. “If anything goes wrong, don't wait to ask for help while you try to fix it yourselves. I'm not losing you again.”

Dick put his hands on top of Bruce's, smiling up at him. “You won't. I'll be careful. I've been training and patrolling for months, you've put me in a squad with two metas, and I learned my lesson about rushing into things unprepared a long time ago. Trust me?”

Batman nodded and let him go. “Get as much rest as you can. Are you okay staying here?”

“Completely.”

“If anything changes—”

“I'll tell you. I promise.”

Batman finally relented and headed to the zeta tube, leaving the team to relax in the sitting area by themselves. Wally had microwaved a massive bowl of soup and was dunking anything bread-like he could find. At least restricted his food carnage to the counter.

“Is everything all right?” M'gann asked Dick. Good to know Conner hadn't told the team about the conversation. It was hard to say a word in this place without him knowing, except in the garage and even then it wasn't a guarantee.

“It's fine. He's just worried about me.”

“It's a big club,” said Barbara.

“Membership is now closed.”

“I'm the president and I disagree,” Wally said, mouth full of bread.

“You'll have to duel B for that honour.”

“Do it,” said Artemis. “I could use the laugh.”

“Do not encourage them,” said Kaldur, before changing the subject. “How are you feeling about your first mission, Barbara?”

“Excited. Nervous.”

“You're not alone,” Dick said. “This is my first in months.”

Barbara made a face at him. “At least you've done them before.”

“I believe in you.”

“We'll take care of you,” Raquel promised her.

“Assuming you even need our help,” added Artemis.

“Do you think we'll run into the al Ghuls?” Barbara asked

Dick shrugged. “They have a lot of bases, mostly in warmer climates. And they'd have to know staying anywhere near the US for long periods of time puts them at risk of Batman finding them. Then again, Talia sometimes does that on purpose.”

Jason groaned loudly at that. “They're the _worst_.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow. “Clearly, I'm missing something.”

“They kind of have a thing,” said Dick.

“Because apparently the big guy has a fetish for supervillains,” Jason muttered.

“That's not a word I ever wanted to hear coming out of your mouth,” said Dick.

Barbara cut in. “I thought he and Catwoman were—”

“They are,” Dick replied. “It's complicated.”

“Anyone else I should be aware of?”

“Ignorance is bliss,” said Jason. “I miss it.”

“You know, I never wanted to know about Batman's love life,” said Zatanna. “I don't even know what to do with this information.”

“Pretend it never happened,” said Artemis. “That's what I'm trying to do.”

Wally dumped his bowl in the sink, turning on the tap to rinse it. “Tell them about the time Catwoman robbed a museum just so he'd chase her across the city.”

“No, don't tell us,” Barbara complained. Dick cackled loudly, both at her discomfort and at the memory. Bruce's exasperation at the end of the chase had been photo-worthy. He'd given Dick and Jason ice cream money so they'd stop laughing at him. Selina also may have high-fived them for laughing at his expense.

“That one was pretty funny,” Jason admitted.

Wally flung himself onto the arm of the couch, leaning heavily against Dick, who elbowed him in the ribs. “I feel like this is a metaphor for our relationship.”

“Not really. I'm not crying hysterically.”

“That's really sad, actually,” said Barbara.

Dick splayed his hands and shook them, grinning because otherwise he _would_ start crying hysterically. “Welcome to mental illness!” He'd never specifically told her he had PTSD, but she was clever. She must've figured it out. Dinah had kept his diagnosis out of all formal records given the stigma could affect job opportunities later on, but he didn't need to worry about that with the team.

“I thought something was up, but I didn't want to pry. Not after everything you told me.”

“I have PTSD.” May as well spell it out. “It's like there's a party in my brain and everyone's screaming. And there's someone playing a never-ending video of all the bad shit that's happened to me. I keep throwing that asshole out but he keeps coming back.”

“Well, that's just bad etiquette,” was all she said in response.

“Tell me about it. Today's actually a good day, which is weird.”

Barbara nodded in understanding.

The team worked together to make dinner. It was nigh-impossible to make anything complex, especially with Wally's general impatience, so they made pasta, which was quickly devoured. Dick and Wally went to bed early. Dick in particular would need the extra time to make sure he was properly rested. He didn't want to feel like a zombie on his first mission back with the team.

Wally changed in his room before coming to Dick's room.

“Are you still okay?” Wally asked, sitting on the bed. Dick joined him.

“I'm good. I started the image rehearsal therapy again. I think it's helping, at least a little.”

“Are you feeling okay about the mission?”

“I think so. The odds of us running into Ra's or Talia are pretty slim anyway. If I had my pick of home bases, I certainly wouldn't pick one that's liable to freeze my face off.”

“At least it discourages visitors. Mostly.”

Dick snorted. “We'll see about that tomorrow, won't we?”

Wally rested his chin on Dick's shoulder. “I'm glad Bruce stuck us in the same squad.”

“You know he did it on purpose, right?”

“Dude, I'm not that oblivious.”

“Oh, I don't know...”

“Don't be a dick.”

“That stopped being funny after the first ten times.”

“Shut up. It's always funny.”

Dick climbed under the covers, shoving his face into the pillow. “I'm going to sleep to get away from this conversation.”

Wally laughed, kissed his shoulder and joined him.


End file.
